Lullaby
by alaricnomad
Summary: LP. They spent the summer together. They're closer than ever. But they share a dark secret. And now it's out. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue: Where the Sidewalk Cracks

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

** -- Prologue --**

He stared, unseeing, at the pallid walls of the bathroom around him. He remembered vaguely how he had gotten here. He remembered locking himself away in a bathroom stall, collapsing onto the tilted floor, unable to hold any longer the strain of his own breaking heart.

His body shook, trembled as he choked back another sob, squeezing his eyes shut against the threat of additional tears, his face wet from past offenders that stung against flushed, heated skin, the taste of them and the salt of his cold sweat bitter against his lips. It was far too much to handle, this uproarious tumult of anguish keeping such a tight grip around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter until he could scarcely breathe. He wanted to scream, he wanted to rage, he wanted some form of release from the torment, the god-awful torment of his emotions, but no matter where he tried to run, they always found him again, and to fight was useless.

An image of her fragile, broken form lying in the bed, the blank, dead look in her eyes as she shut him out, shoved him away as he tried to reassure, pushed into his mind. His body shuddered, his legs weak and rubbery-feeling as he shakily lifted himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall as he unlatched the lock and almost fell on his face as he tumbled out. He landed heavily against the sink, grunting as his stomach harshly impacted with the porcelain and it was all he could do to stay upright.

As he struggled for some semblance of balance, he caught a glance at himself in the mirror, and his attention was caught, unable to tear his gaze away from the mirrored image. He looked tired…he looked forsaken…he looked abandoned…

"_This is your fault!"_

"_Get away from me. I don't want you anywhere near me!"_

A shrill, strangled cry tore from his throat, and his fist came crashing into the glass, shattering, splintering his reflection into a million broken pieces…so now the reflection was the same as the original, broken. He shook and trembled violently, unable to hold it back. He stared into the broken mirror- stared into the shattered pieces of his life. He buried his face in his hands, "…it's broken…" he whispered hoarsely, "...and I can't fix it…"


	2. Chapter 1: Kindly Unspoken

Lullaby

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

A/N: Remember the time capsule? Let's change the timing. Let's say the TH gang recorded it in early S3. Let's say the revelations were a little different.

And let's see what the fallout will be.

**Chapter One: Kindly Unspoken**

He remembered reading-somewhere, someplace he couldn't quite pinpoint- about an old style of tavern called a hell, normally noted as places of hang out for the dirty and the riffraff. Upon looking at his surroundings, he decided such a description well-described the place his feet had carried him to.

Run-down, dimly lit, the bar was not a place he would frequent on a normal occasion, but when the moment he had walked out the door, his first and foremost priority had been to put as much distance between himself and his dreams as humanly possible. So here he found himself, looking through the fog of hazy smoke to try and spot a free stool at the bar.

The drinks were a familiar feeling, going down smooth but burning, the amber liquid translucent in the pallid glow of the neon lights on the wall, the clink of ice against the glass a sign for him to raise his finger to the bartender for another round. His body felt heavier, languid, and a hazy feeling clouded his perception. Still, he drank.

His nostrils filling with the sickly sweet scent of a heavy floral perfume was his first warning a split second before he felt the sudden proximity of an individual, suddenly hanging off his arm and pressing against his side gave definition to a clearly female body. He lazily opened one eye to investigate.

Around his age, he supposed, as much as he could tell beneath the makeup, reasonably pretty. She smiled at him, and he was sure it would be a very nice smile if not so leering and suggestive.

"Hey, handsome," she cooed, her voice low and sultry, "Buy me a drink."

He was silent for a moment, and then nonchalantly but gently pulled his arm back, downing what remained of his drink in a single gulp. The alcohol was fiery all the way down, and his stomach lurged, but he was steady as he rose to his feet and shrugged into his leather coat.

"Sorry," he said smoothly as he threw a few wrinkled dollars on the rough surface of the bar, "Not interested."

The unknown woman stared at him for a moment, and then shrugged, not looking the least bit offended as she sauntered away to find her next victim. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his brow furrowing with disconcertion as he sighed and stepped out the back door out onto the streets.

It was raining. He stared up into the skies in long, drawn-out contemplation and then in a surge of spontaneity, he drew his t-shirt over his head. The water was cool against his bare skin, raising goose bumps in the chill made by rain. Rain fell in torrents, in thick, impenetrable sheets that obscured any vision more than a few inches before his eyes. The skies were an endless puzzle of wild patterns of gray and black and cobalt blue, violently changing as the rain pelted down, lightning crashed in the clouds and thunder rumbled prophetically in the distance.

He closed his eyes and threw back his head, the pelting droplets harsh against vulnerable, naked skin as he stood shirtless in the middle of the storm. Rivulets streamed down his face, plastering his hair against his skull. The tension faded from his body in the wake of the renewing vigor of the storm, as the water washed over him, his anger and pain faded with it. His body finally calmed in the violent aftermath of his pain.

A vibration in his pocket dragged him away from his reflections. He kept walking, flipping open his cell without checking the caller id. "Hello?"

"Luke?" The voice was achingly familiar and he shuddered, breathing in through his nose.

"Yeah."

"Are you…can you…" she trailed off and as he heard a muffled sob, his heart twisted, "Can you come over?"

His eyes closed wearily and he thought of Brooke. His girlfriend's loving brown eyes, her adoring smile, her delicate trust in him…and he sighed, "Yeah. Okay. I'll be there soon."

She was waiting in the front hall as he walked through the door, wearing a thin robe, the hem of the old shirt- one of his- she used as nightwear, sticking out from the bottom. She looked strangely vulnerable, standing there, staring at him with hesitant eyes, arms wrapped around her.

"Lucas," she whispered shakily and within seconds, he was stepping forward, pulling her into his arms. Uncaring of his wet state, she burrowed into his embrace, clinging to him as if he was her last hope. And in a lot of ways, he was.

It was broken. They were broken. He couldn't fix it, but he could help it heal…little by little.

--

He was staring again.

Normally, part of her wishes he wouldn't, another part delights in his attention. But now, with the world falling apart around them, she wants nothing more than for his attention to fade from her. She can feel the burn of his gaze, though she tries so desperately to ignore it. She refuses to look up, to see the brazen blue of his eyes, blazing like twin suns. His eyes always seem to burn when they focus on her. God help her…God help them both.

"Are you going to just keep standing there and staring? No offense, but it's kind of creepy."

By the look on his face, she could tell he wasn't amused, but at the moment, Peyton didn't really care. She looked away from him and drew her knees up to her chest, curled up against herself in a dark corner of the hallway. He crouched down in front of her, reaching out to her, but she slapped his hands away. "Don't."

"Peyton…"

"Don't, Luke. You can't fix this. You can't make it better with a hug or telling me it's going to be okay. It doesn't work like that."

"_There's something that happened to me this summer that I haven't told anyone. I've kept a secret from my family and my friends and I can't believe I'm telling you, but its fifty years from now, so what the hell, right? I'll probably be long gone from here by then. A couple months ago…I found out I was pregnant. I know what you're thinking, but I wasn't stupid. I used protection and I was on the pill. I guess stuff like this just happens. And God, I was so freaking scared. I mean, what was I going to do with a baby? A whole 'nother life that would depend on me. I can barely take of myself. _

_It took time, but eventually…I got used to the idea. I was still nervous and shaky, but I wanted it. I would have a family. I would have somebody to love who would love me back for no other reason except he or she could. The idea that I was carrying another life inside me was amazing."_

"You can't let me try?" the vulnerability was thick in his voice, almost pleading, and though her heart clenched at his pain, she refused to let her guard down.

"No, Lucas. I don't want that from you."

"You shouldn't be alone."

"I should have been from the beginning. You shouldn't have gotten tangled up in this."

His eyes softened. "Peyton," he whispered, "That was my choice. You couldn't have turned me away if you tried."

He reached out, his hand settling over hers. Her palm curled around his, their fingers entwining. He traced his thumb over her knuckles, tracing his pinkie down her lifelines. He leaned down, ghosting a delicate kiss against her hand.

"Luke, what am I going to do?"

He kissed the top of her head. "I don't know, Peyt. But I'm here. Don't forget that."

She nodded and rested her head against his shoulder. The world was falling down around her…but maybe, maybe he could help shelter her from it.

--

"How is she?"

Brooke tried not to take offense as her boyfriend tensed under her touch, even as he shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and looked away. "Not good."

She winced. "Maybe I should go see her."

He shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

She gave him a dark look, wrapping her arms around herself, not surprised as she found she was shaking. It was a horrible thing to remember the happenings as if they had occurred just a few minutes before. Her flashing her breasts on tape had nothing on the reaction caused by Peyton's anguished confession. All the stares, the utter quiet that had filled the high school's hallways, all those eyes turning to Peyton. The girl's shocked and pained confusion, her tears and the remembrance of her running from the school. Her best friend had gone through something like that, and she had had no idea. She had never even suspected a thing.

She glanced at her boyfriend. "You two spent the summer together. You must have known about this. Why didn't you say something?"

"It wasn't my place."

"She's my best friend, Lucas! You should have told me! She should have told me!"

His face softened. "Maybe she didn't want to see that look."

"What look?"

"The one you have right now. That judging look."

She opened her mouth to refute him and then faltered, shame welling up as she realized that she was, in fact, judging. "I don't mean to. It's just…it's Peyton. She's always been the responsible one. She's the careful one." She looked up at him. "What about you? Did you judge?"

He smiled sadly. "No," he said softly, "I was afraid for her. I worried about her. But I couldn't judge her."

She wiped at the tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm a horrible friend."

"Brooke, no. You're just human. Come here," he opened his arms and she immediately fell into them, clinging to the reassurance of him. "Shh, pretty girl, it'll be alright."

She sniffled against his chest. "You promise?"

"I promise. Everything will be okay."

Unlike a certain curly-haired blonde, she naively believed him. Little were any of them to know that things were about to go from bad to worse.

"_I was scared, but I thought it would work out in the end. Then... I don't even know how it happened. One minute everything was okay, the next…there was blood between my legs and pain in my belly. And I miscarried. I lost my baby."_


	3. Chapter 2: It's Only Life

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Two: It's Only Life**

She was curled up on the bed in a fetal position, arms tightly wrapped around her. Her face was twisted into a pained expression and her cheeks glistened with previously shed tears. She looked pale and gaunt, exhausted to the very depths of her body, heart and soul. As Haley James Scott stood in the doorway watching her friend, her heart began to break.

Peyton let out a choked sob, her hands unconsciously coming to rest against her stomach. At that point, Haley couldn't take anymore and she made her way into the room with purposeful strides. She said gently on the bed and didn't hesitate to envelop the distraught girl in her arms. Peyton immediately stiffened at the contact but catching a flash of tawny hair she recognized, not fighting the embrace but not relaxing into it either. "Hales," she said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." She hesitated for a moment, pressing her lips together. "I'm not going to ask if you're okay. It's probably the stupidest thing I could ask right now. But is there something I can do? How can I help, Peyton?"

Peyton sobbed again, unable to hold it back. She finally let herself settle into Haley's hug, but it wasn't as comfortable as she had hoped. Haley was warm, kind and concerned, but there was only one pair of arms she really wanted to be in. "Do you know where Lucas is?"

Haley pulled back a little, looking, "Luke? I dunno. I think he's with Brooke. She seemed pretty upset about today."

Peyton snorted. She couldn't help herself. Brooke was upset?

Haley looked down at her distraught friend with puzzlement. "Do you want me to call him?"

The blonde shook her head. "No…he can't take care of me all the time."

Though the last part came out as little more than a murmur to her, Haley was still able to hear the words due to their close proximity. "Oh, Peyton," she sighed, "Lucas cares about you. He just wants to show it."

"I know that. You know that. Even Brooke knows it. Though I doubt she likes it."

"Peyton, you shouldn't worry about Brooke right now," she soothingly rubbed the other girl's back, "You have enough on your mind already."

Peyton only nodded, pleadingly curling closer to the brunette. Haley shifted to rest Peyton's head in her lap, stroking the mess of golden curls. "They didn't even let me see him. They just wrapped him up and took him away. But he was inside me, Hales. I knew he was there, this little life growing and changing."

"He?"

"Yeah. I was only three months along and they could just barely tell, but they said it was a boy. I had a son, Haley. I could have had a beautiful baby boy…and I killed him."

"Shh…" Haley leaned down, brushing her lips against her forehead. Peyton whimpered, nestling her cheek against Haley's thigh. "It wasn't your fault. This wasn't anyone's fault."

The blonde could only sob once more, burrowing further into the warm reassurance her companion. "I wish I could believe that."

Haley's eyes squeezed shut, and all she could do was hold her friend a little tighter, a little bit closer. Tears of her own began to fall as she rested her cheek against the trembling head of curls. Peyton's pain was such a palpable thing; she couldn't help when it became hers as well.

--

She had never felt so empty.

The tile of the kitchen floor she lay against was cold against her skin. She was huddled in a corner against the hard surface of the cabinets, tears pricking her eyes as she tried hard to fight against another onslaught of her grief. The salt of her tears burned against the chapped flush to her cheeks, her breath came out ragged and harsh as she choked out dry sobs.

That was the way Lucas found her later that night. He cautiously made his way into the dark house, making his way first up to her bedroom, panic rising up inside him as he found it empty. He backtracked downstairs, sensitive ears picking up the ratcheting sounds of her crying. "Peyt?"

He found her hidden in the shadows of the kitchen, curled up in a ball as if to make her seem as small as possible. As he approached, he abruptly stopped as he heard something crunch beneath his shoes. Looking down, his eyes widened as he recognized the source of the sound as being splintered glass littering the floor. He heaved a sigh, brow furrowing as he found faint splatters of red mixed in with the shards. "Peyton…"

She would recognize that voice anywhere. "Luke."

"Hey. Haley called me. She had a feeling you might need me."

She nodded miserably. "I do, Luke. I do." She looked up at him, just barely able to make out in features in the dark. He had such an open, honest face, he always had, and she watched as the torn emotions blanketed his expression. Lucas thought, lived, and breathed through his heart. When she hurt, he hurt along with her.

"Oh, Peyton, baby, what'd you do?"

She swallowed, looking up at him with those lost, vulnerable eyes he hadn't seen since Ellie's passing, and before that, the initial loss of her baby barely four months ago. "I…I was trying to get some water, but my hands were shaking. I guess…I dropped the glass…I slipped and cut my feet," she whimpered softly, "Luke…it hurts."

Knowing she was referring to more than the cuts to her feet, his heart broke then and there. "Okay," he said softly, crossing the room to stand beside her. He bent down to her, slipping one arm beneath her knees, the other across her back, and he effortlessly lifted her off the floor, "Let's get you cleaned up."

Cradling her to him as Peyton nestled close to him, seeking the comfort of him, he frowned at the lightness of her, cursing himself for not noticing sooner how much weight she had lost. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he climbed the stairs, her fragile form held securely in his arms. He went first to the bathroom, helping her to seat herself on the toilet. He turned on the light, the new illumination giving him a clear view of her pale, haggard face, the ashen gray to her expression, the bruised skin beneath her eyes. "Where's the first aid kit, honey?"

"Under the sink."

He nodded and retrieved said item. He took a washcloth from the shelf, wetting the towel in warm water from the sink. He then knelt down beside her, starting first with the tweezers from the kit. She was silent, watching him as he carefully removed any pieces cutting into her feet. Next, he delicately washed away the blood, gently applied an antibiotic cream over the cuts, and then wrapped bandages tightly around her soles.

He tied off the last one, gently smiling as he pressed a kiss to her ankle, getting up to retrieve another wet washcloth, wiping off the sweat, tears and running makeup that still masked her face. He went to wash his hands and knelt down before her once more, lightly resting his hands against her thighs. "There we go. All better."

His gentleness had always had a way of undoing her and grateful tears began to well up in her eyes. At the sight of them, he frowned with worry. Hoping to comfort her, he leaned up, peppering light kisses against her cheek. Her eyes closed and he felt her relax ever so slightly, reaching up to entangle her hand in the hair at his nape. He nuzzled her temple, Peyton's eyes closing contently at the comfort he had offered many times before. The familiarity of him and his tenderness warmed her heart and she reverently whispered his name, "Lucas…"

Lucas gave her a soft smile, comfortingly rubbing his hands against her arms. "What next, baby? Do you want a bath first, or just bed?"

As if his words brought her realization, she suddenly became aware of just how weary she really was. It had been such a long, hellish day. "Bed. Please."

"Okay." He picked her up once more, bridal-style and she rested her head against his shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck as he walked down the hall. He came to her bedroom, pushing the door open with his foot. He gently placed her on the bed. He rummaged briefly through her closet, taking out a long t-shirt and pair of flannel pajama bottoms. He returned to the bed, smoothing his hands up her sides. "Up," he quietly requested.

Peyton nodded, obediently lifting her arms. He drew her shirt over her head, unclipping her bra with remembered efficiency. His hands were light and caressing, touching her with a chaste sort of familiarity, as he skimmed them down her sides to unbutton her pants, pulling down the zipper. He gave her hip a gentle push and she responded to his silent prodding, laying back. She lifted her hips to allow him a chance to pull down and off her jeans. He dressed her in the chosen pajamas, tucking her under the covers.

He kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed beside her. She rolled over to face him, seeking his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her. Soft hands began to push at the hem of his shirt and Lucas got the message, lifting himself up slightly to remove the garment. He lay back and she immediately returned to his side, nestling her head against him to press her ear to his chest. Her eyes closed and she began to relax against him, her breathing growing slow and steady as the tension melted away from her body.

He had long since discovered, in the occasions when he had stayed with her over the past six months, that it oddly displeased Peyton when he lay beside her with a shirt on. The first few nights of an insistent pulling at his wife-beaters/t-shirts and he had given in, beginning to come to bed bare-chested. It was a strange little quirk, one he knew had little to do with any sexual connotations, but something he had puzzled over for a while.

It dawned on him one night with her nestled against his chest, when she began to lowly hum in time with his heartbeat. He realized it was exactly what she was seeking each time as she lay there with her ear pressed to the sound, her cheek against his skin to feel the warmth radiated by the blood flowing through his veins. She needed to know he was there, alive and well, solid and real. If the feel of his skin and the beat of his heart calmed her, he would forego upper body clothing anytime.

He closed his eyes and he could remember another heartbeat that once brought joy and comfort, both excitement and nervousness. Her first ultrasound, Peyton had asked him to come with her. He had been at her side, holding her hand, whispering reassurances to her anxiousness, laughing at her expression when the doctor pulled up her shirt and pressed the cold gel to her stomach. If the image on the screen was amazing, the sound that followed when the audio was turned on was even more awe-inspiring. He has been struck speechless. Peyton had turned to him, her smile brilliant as tears glistened in her eyes. Unable to find words, he could only squeeze her hand, returning the joyful smile.

That day, it was truly the most miraculous thing he had ever seen.

--

When she awoke, it was still dark. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, squinting over at the alarm clock, whose glowing red digits pronounced it to be five-thirty a.m. Grumbling at the early hour, she reached out, frowning as she found the rest of the bed empty, Lucas's side gone cold. She shook slightly, her stomach dropping at finding him gone, but mentally berated herself for being disappointed at his absence. She couldn't expect him to be with her 24/7. He had a girlfriend, a family, a life of his own.

As she had closed her eyes and repeated these thoughts in her head like a mantra, hoping to dispel the child-like longing she felt for his return, a sudden dip to the bed had her hopes skyrocketing once more. Calloused hands stroked her face, soft lips brushing against her cheek, warm breath feathering against her cheek as he asked, "Baby, what are you doing up? Did you have another nightmare?"

Vaguely, she thought of how such endearments seemed to spill from his tongue in situations like this, when he comforted or took care of her, sweet things that would seem inappropriate between just friends to the outside world. She wondered if he was even conscious that he did it.

She shook her head, scooting closer to him. Lucas hugged her to him. "Where'd you go?" she muttered against his chest.

"Just downstairs. I cleaned up the kitchen." He kissed her forehead. "Is that what's wrong? You were worried I was gone?"

She guiltily nodded. "Sorry. I know I shouldn't expect-"

He cut her off, cupping her face in his hands, guiding her to look up at him. "Don't apologize. Never apologize for needing me, Peyton. Please." His eyes closed as he leaned his head against hers. "I need you to need me. If there's anything I can do to make up for it…" he whispered into her hair, so low she knew he was talking more to himself to her, but still she picked up on the words.

"Lucas…" It was a well known fact that he knew her well, but it was as often overlooked that she understood him in the same ways. The guilt and the sorrow he tried so hard to hide was blatant to her in the clouded blue-gray of his eyes, the self-blame coloring his voice thick and heavy. She placed a hand against his face, kissing his jaw. "I'm sorry I blamed you."

"No. You had a right to blame me. If we hadn't fought that night…"

"Luke…" she placed a finger against his lips, shaking her head, "It wasn't your fault. It never was."

"But if I hadn't made you so upset-"

"Lucas." She cut him off this time with a firm utterance of his name. "Stop." She held his face between her hands to guarantee he met her eyes. "It. Wasn't. Your. Fault."

He let out a shaky breath, "Okay."

"Okay?"

He nodded, leaning his forehead against hers. "Okay."


	4. Chapter 3: Wish You Were

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Three: Wish You Were**

Author's Notes: So I was noticing something, since the stories I'm finishing up were started during or set during S3. I just wanted to clear up the fact that I by no means dislike Brooke. S5 Brooke is the coolest, really. But back when she was with Lucas, she really hadn't matured yet, and her insecurities not only wreaked havoc on her relationship with Peyton but her character as well. I just wanted to clear that up for someone who thought I took some kind of pleasure out of bashing her character.

--

From the time she was a young child, after her mother's death, she had always been plagued by nightmares. It was frightening even at seventeen to still be awoken suddenly in the night from the horror of the dream, left disoriented and gasping for breath, smothered by the thick darkness of the night as she tried to calm her body and mind.

When she was older, and Nathan, then Jake, began to spend the nights through in her bed, it was always a small comfort to find them there beside her. But with Lucas…with Lucas, she found her sanctuary. He would wrap his arms around her, holding her close against the solid reassurance of his body, softly kiss her forehead and her temple, stroke her hair and whisper to her, assuring her of his presence, waiting patiently as she finally calmed and sank back against him.

Lullabies, storybooks, and mother's embrace was nothing but a distant, intangible memory, a whisper of recollection reassured by the very real presence of his warmth and love and comfort. Resting safely in his embrace, she could trace her hands over the contours of his body, knowing every mark and crevice like the pages of a book, every inch of skin maintaining its own story. His heartbeat served as her lullaby, never failing her in its constant, steady rhythm.

Strong and constant as Lucas himself, she was lulled into a dreamless sleep by the sound of his heartbeat.

--

"Hey, P. Sawyer."

Peyton looked up at the sound of the voice, her weary eyes meeting those of her best friend. The concern in them warmed her, the way they hesitated hurt her, but most of all, just the sight of them had her overwhelmed in guilt. Only six hours ago, her best friend's boyfriend had stood in that very spot, giving her a gentle smile of goodbye with an assurance he would be checking on her that afternoon, only leaving after extracting a promise that she would call him if she needed anything at all.

She forced a smile, raising her head from her pillow. "Hey, B. Davis."

Brooke returned the smile, coming further into the room as she sat on the side of the bed. "How you feeling? I didn't see you at school today."

Peyton cocked an eyebrow, replying sardonically, "Did you really think I would go?"

Brooke winced. "Right."

Peyton's face softened. "Sorry," she softly apologized.

"It's okay." She placed her hand over the blonde's. "How are you doing?"

Peyton groaned, rubbing her free hand over her face. "I wish everyone would stop asking me that." Glancing up to see the hurt look on her friend's face, she sighed. "God, I'm really sorry, Brooke. It's just been a really long couple of days."

Brooke gave her a weak smile. "I told you, it's alright, P. Sawyer." She squeezed her companion's fingers, looking uneasily around the room. Peyton watched as her eyes darted around the room, searchingly.

"What are you looking for?"

"I…I was thinking about Lucas. Has he been by today?"

The artist gave her a strange look. "No. I'm sure he's at practice. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be?"

"Yeah…I pushed it back a half-hour," with the same, queer expression, Brooke toyed with the edges of the bed's comforter. "…he didn't want to stay last night. Did he…did he stop by yesterday?"

"Yeah," Peyton replied slowly, carefully watching the brunette's expression, "Why?"

Brooke started to answer and then stopped, her attention intently locking on something in the opposite direction. Peyton followed her gaze, a lump rising in her throat as she realized what Brooke was staring at: the sweater Lucas had been wearing the previous night, draped over the back of her computer chair.

Peyton swallowed, looking into the eyes of the girl whose boyfriend had been in her room the night before. The boy who had undressed her, held her, kissed away her tears, slept the night through by her side. Someone else's boyfriend. Her best friend's boyfriend.

She looked away. "You should go, Brooke. The squad's probably waiting for you."

Brooke didn't protest, leaving in silence.

--

Normal people took the sense of touch for granted.

There was the touch of a mother, touch of a friend or sibling, the touch of a lover. For Peyton Sawyer and Lucas Scott, touch between them (friends, lovers, anything) was illicit. They were friends, former lovers, confidantes connected in a way they couldn't understand. But six months ago, those lines had blurred and merged together until they both knew they had come to the point of no return. There was no going back to the way things were before- no way at all.

That summer had changed everything. The way she had needed him had imprinted itself on his heart, his body, his and his very soul.

Had he honestly thought he could forget about her? For the past three months, pursuing Brooke and distracted by his HCM, he had thought he could forget, forget the way things had changed and forget about the new connection forged between them that summer. Forget everything that had happened- the joy and the pain, the guilt and the elation, the heartbreak and the happiness.

He had deluded himself, trapping himself in self-consuming lies, longing to appease his mind with such pitiful denial that not even in his groggy, sleep-deprived partial awareness could he ever believe he was capable of forgetting about her.

The girl was like a drug, her very presence intoxicating, an addiction where he could never get enough, where just being with her had been a heady thrill, dangerous and powerful as love and need came close again and again to overwhelming him. He laid in bed for another sleepless night, driven to the extremes of frustration by the insomnia, the ache of longing, compounding into a hurt so extreme he could scarcely breathe, wanting so badly to howl his frustration until his throat tore raw and red, until his desperation was so great he could give over to the urge for tears, weak and pitiful in his longing.

Loving her- giving her his love- made him stronger, but wanting her threatened to break him.

In the darkest hours of the night, as he lay restless and exhausted from lack of sleep, it was her touch that haunted him, the very tangible memory of phantom fingers stroking against his skin, tentative caresses along his chest and arms, tracing his biceps and the muscles of his abdomen. Her hands twining through his hair, her hands clenching at his shoulders, raking down his back, running down his spine. The brush of silken curls against his chest, the warmth of her body curled against his.

The way she always seemed so desperate to feel him, to know he was there. His body became the haven for her reassurance, comfort and safety. And her touch became the salvation he needed for both the torment and the joy they had experienced that summer.

His body trembled and tightened, the ache so intense and unbearable his breath left him. He felt close to tears, whimpering softly, biting back a pitiful groan as his mind failed to banish away the memories, as his hands reached out and sought her.

They found only empty air.


	5. Chapter 4: Facing Up

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Four: Facing Up**

He stands now in a dark so thick and palpable that even the sharpest of eyes cannot fully discern the differences between shapes and colors in the night. His body is stiff and hard, vaguely throbbing with lingering pain in too many places to count. He is cold; kneeling against the frozen ground, as he raises his hands close to his eyes for examination, the raw, red scrapes brazen against the ghostly pale sheen of his skin.

How long had he pounded his fists again and again into the nearest tree he could find, breaking skin, drawing blood, and losing himself in the familiar feel of pain. There was power in this, in the ability to give pain. But this time the power was his, and this pain was his own, self-inflicted, and in this moment, no one else held the power over him.

He shuddered lightly, disturbed by the trail of his own thoughts. What would the women in his life- Haley, his mother, Brooke, Peyton…especially Peyton- think of him now, if they- she - could see the ugliness dwelling so deep inside?

No…she would accept it, like everything else she accepted about him. Selfless and pure, she would accept everything about him. But even Peyton had something bitter and ugly inside, hidden so deep no one else could see. Grief could taint even the gentlest of hearts.

He struggled to his feet, disgusted by the trembling of his body, by the weakness, but still he pushed himself into a standing position.

_Love. _

Despite everything, he struggles to still hold on to his precious ideal, that love could wash away the horrible taint seeping into their lives, their hearts, their very souls. It was love that gave him his very last hope, encased in a fragile slip of a girl who had become a woman before her time.

As if his very thoughts could make her appear, he feels her presence at his back. He turned his head over his shoulder, not completely, just enough for her to see the light smile curving his mouth at the thought that he can feel her so thoroughly, the same way she could feel him.

"Should you be out so late?" he asks softly, letting his voice lilt, ironically amused at his own ease of keeping a light tone despite their circumstances.

The smile that graced her flawless features- despite how beautiful and ethereal as she seemed in the white of the nightshirt he realized she was wearing beneath her jacket, a glowing radiance in the night- equally as ironic, equally as cynical, as his own, seemed unnatural on what'd he'd seen for months as a gentle face. "No," she answered softly, wrapping her arms around herself, "But neither should you."

He stiffened, answering only with a curt nod, "I wanted to come see you, but it didn't seem like the best idea."

"Mmm…is that why you seem so distant now?"

"What?" He glanced back at her, puzzled, uncomprehending.

She laid a hand against his face; fingers as soft as a butterfly's kiss tracing the strong line of his jaw, stroking the rough hint of stubble against his skin until he leaned into her touch, opening his eyes to meet her. "It's in your eyes, Luke. We're so close, right now, but one look into your eyes shows you to be so far away."

"I should be with Brooke," he whispered, wishing nothing more than to scream the truth to her, to no longer play games, to convince her once and for all to end this strange dance. The irrational feeling passed, and he continued, his tone just as soft, "I know I should, but I'm not."

"Hmm." As she made the sound of acknowledgement, he grasped the hand against his cheek in his own, placing a chaste kiss against her open palm, his lips cold against her warmth.

"She got angry with me earlier. I mentioned I wanted to check on you and she got quiet, asked me to leave."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

The warmth in her eyes chilled so quickly it startled him, even as the grip on his hand tightened almost painfully. "Still…I'm sorry. I cause so much trouble for you."

"Stop." His face darkened as he touched his fingers to her cheek, gently so she would know it wasn't her he was angry with. "You're worth everything I could ever give to you. Don't put yourself down like that."

"Luke." His eyes met hers once more, sharp and piercing in their intensity.

"Luke." She repeated his name again, like a mantra, a prayer, as she lightly brushed back his hair to expose his forehead, the furrowed worry of his brow. Her hand she braced against his shoulder for leverage, as she leaned on the tips of her toes to reach him, her lips gently brushing against his skin. She kissed his forehead, resting her soles back against the ground a moment later, resting a hand against his chest. Looking up into his eyes, she bent her head and pressed her mouth chastely to his chest, shirt open enough for her to touch bare skin, in the place above his heartbeat.

He trembled at the contact, the intimacy of the gesture somehow even deeper, more earth shattering than the numerous times he had held her in his arms, bare skin warm against bare skin, her heart beating in unison with his. Despite the countless times he had shared her bed, despite that he had stood before her in all his male glory, he had never before felt so naked in her presence.

"Luke."

With the sound of her voice, he opened his eyes once more, as she leaned back, offering no protest as he enveloped her in his arms, pulling her tightly against him. She soothingly stroked his hair, murmuring quiet nothings of comfort into his ear until the shudders running through his body quieted, memories of lost children and vulnerability chased away in the wake of her smile.

"It's not worth getting angry over, Lucas."

"You shouldn't have to feel like this, Peyton. I want to make it better for you.""

Again, her eyes shadowed, filling with a sadness that clenched his heart in familiar feeling. "You do, Luke. Just by being you." Her hands ghosted over his bleeding knuckles, cupping his bruised hands so gently he could barely discern any tangible contact. "Why do you keep punishing yourself?"

His expression was blank as he responded. "The same reason you do."

She nodded simply, and turned in his arms, her gaze directed toward the opposite horizon, where the sunrise was sure to appear at any moment. He slipped his arms around her, lost himself in her familiar warmth and scent, the scent of her favorite perfume and shampoo and forgot anything else until she spoke again, just as the sky began to a-lit with the fires of heaven.

"Is it me, Lucas? Am I the reason they took him from me? Because it was wrong?"

He laughed, surprising her, though there was no humor in the sound. "I have my own sins on my soul, baby. I'm in no place to judge you."

She sighed softly, as he pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck, his breath warm but his lips cold. "Maybe, because of those sins, you would be the better one to judge than any outsider."

"No." Pressing his hand against hers, forcing both their fingers to spread apart, he lifted them before her eyes, palm against palm. His fingers were long, rough, and calloused against hers, large and strong enough to break or shelter her smaller hand. "This is the difference, sweetheart. This hand belongs to someone who's hurt more than he ever meant to. This hand," he kissed her fingers, "This hand, belonged to someone who's good and worth more than she gives herself credit for it. Someone who deserved that baby."

"I'm scared, Lucas," she said softly, unable to meet his eyes.

"I know, honey," He cupped her chin gently, turning her face toward his. "You don't have to be."

The expression in her eyes was unreadable, as she leaned in and kissed his cheek, running her hands down his chest, coming to rest over his thundering heartbeat. "Why do you take such good care of me?"

"I want to," he whispered, pulling her to him once more, "I need to. After everything that happened…"

Tracing idle circles against his chest, she glanced away, vulnerability in her eyes. "So it's your feeling of obligation?""

"No," he kissed her forehead, "It's my heart, Peyton. Always my heart."


	6. Chapter 5: The Other Side

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Five: The Other Side**

Inevitably, Monday came rolling around a few days later. Lucas, true to his usual fashion, showed up on her doorstep bright and early, determined to be the one to escort her back to school. He was idly flipping through one of his books, seated at the foot of her bed as he waited for her to finish dressing. "Hey, how's your foot feeling?" he called in the direction of bathroom.

"Better," was the muffled reply, "They're almost healed up, so I shouldn't have any problem walking today. What about your hands?"

Lucas set his novel aside, glancing down at his knuckles ruefully. "The scratches closed up. They won't bother me unless I tear one of the scabs open or something.

"Still…that was a really stupid move, you know," she came back into the room, working to hook a necklace around her neck. Lucas smiled as he recognized it as the gift he had given her on her last birthday. "There are better ways to vent."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly thinking coherently at the time." He noticed her still struggling with the jewelry piece and he stood up, gesturing toward her. "Let me."

She gave him a soft smile, shyly nodding her assent. She turned around, holding her hair up as he worked at the clasp, careful not to pinch her. He securely fastened the necklace, drawn in as he took how inviting her skin seemed beneath his touch, so warm and smooth. He brushed his fingers along her nape, toying with the fine wisps of hair. She shivered, arching against his hand as if to seek more of his touch. He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to her neck before he withdrew from her.

He grabbed his jacket and backpack, holding out a hand to her. "Ready?"

"Yeah," was her quiet reply, as she placed her hand in his, "Let's go." Their fingers entwined and together, they made their way out of the house.

--

The moment they walked through the door, all eyes turned to them.

He worriedly watched Peyton pale, her hand gripping his almost painfully tight. He gave her a gentle squeeze and his most reassuring smile. "Just ignore them, Peyt."

She took in a deep breath, steeling herself and nodded. Putting on a brave front, she smiled weakly at him, heading toward her locker.

Lucas did the same, noticing out of the corner of his eye Brooke making a beeline straight toward him. He turned his head and gave her a smile, feeling a little uneasy by the unhappy expression on her face. When she reached him, her smile was obviously forced. "Hey, stranger. Haven't seen you around lately."

"Yeah…" he trailed off sheepishly, guilt churning in his belly, "I've been with Peyton most of the weekend. She hasn't been doing so well and I wanted to make sure she was okay."

"You couldn't have called? I talked to your mom, she said you've barely been home since Thursday. And you've spend every night since then with Peyton."

He sighed, "I told you, Brooke. She's having a hard time."

"I know, and I'm sorry for her, but that doesn't mean you have to be with her 24/7."

He gave her a flat-eyed stare. "Brooke…c'mon…how many times have you been to see her since the capsule was opened?"

The guilt on her face was blatantly clear, but before either of them could say anything more, there was a commotion on the other side of the hallway. Lucas's head whipped around to see a couple of jocks surrounding Peyton, one of them slamming her locker closed the source of the sound. One in particular, the quarterback, a known player and bully, leered down at her. "Hey, Sawyer, why don't you give me a call sometime? It's gotta be that you'll give it up pretty easy, since you already got yourself knocked up."

With the cruel words and Peyton's resulting tears, Lucas's instincts took over completely. He flew across the hallway in a blink of an eye, grabbing the other teen by the lapels of his varsity jacket, slamming him back against the lockers.

"Hey, man, what the hell?!"

Lucas's face was twisted into a snarl, jaw clenched and eyes flashing with fury. "Apologize."

"What?" the jock laughed mockingly, "Why should I? Everybody knows she's easy access."

Lucas shoved him once more against the metal, the boy's head hitting hard as he let out a yelp of protest. Lucas leaned close, snarling, "Do you think this is funny? Huh?! That's my baby you're talking about! This isn't some joke!!"

So lost in his anger, he didn't realize what he had said, oblivious to the gasp and chatter that broke out through the corridor. Peyton paled to a near ghost-white, Brooke's jaw dropped as her expression hardened with indignation. Lucas was ready to make another threat when a sudden shout of, "Scott!" interrupted.

Whitey and Principal Turner pushed their way through the crowd, Whitey glaring at the sigh before him, the principal holding out his hands in hopes of placating the angry student. "Now I don't know what's going on here, but Lucas, just let him go so we can figure this out."

"No," Lucas's reply was firmly defiant, drawing Whitey's irritation to him.

"Scott, you let that boy go. You know as well as I do I don't tolerate fighting from my players.

"I told you! I'm not letting him go until he apologizes!"

"Lucas…" the only voice that could break through to him sounded from behind him, weak and tentative, but still clear enough to reach his ears. He turned his head toward her. She was quietly crying, arms wrapped protectively around her. "Luke, let him go. It's not worth it."

His eyes had immediately softened as they fell on her, torn between what he wanted to do, and the contradicting thing she wanted from him. "Peyton…"

"Please, Luke. For me?"

At the final plea, he immediately relented, releasing the boy and making his way to her. She watched him warily, but the outrage had completely faded from him, replaced by the tenderness he had always bestowed on her. He reached up and stroked his fingers against her cheek, whispering so only they could hear, "Anything for you."

Looking into his eyes for a long moment, she mouthed "I'm sorry" to him, backing away and racing down the hall. His heart pained at her fleeing from him, but he didn't have much time to contemplate when a hand enclosed around his forearm. His girlfriend.

"Tell me that was not true. Tell me it was just something you said in the heat of the moment. Tell me you wouldn't do that to me again."

He couldn't. "Brooke…"

She let out a bitter laugh. "I can't believe this. I can't believe I thought I could trust you again."

When she slapped him, he accepted it, not bothering to move out of the way.

"_You still awake?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_You okay?"_

_She nodded, bumping his chin from where her head was tucked against his neck. "Hmm-mm. Just couldn't get back to sleep."_

"_You really miss him, don't you?"_

_She sniffled against his neck. "Why'd he have to leave, Luke?"_

_He kissed her forehead. "He had his reasons, Peyt. I'm sure he was doing what he thought was best for everybody."_

"_That doesn't change that he left. Why do people always leave, Lucas? Is it me? Am I not good enough?"_

"_Peyton…honey, look at me," he gently tilted her head up to face him and the tears glistening in green eyes darkened with sorrow broke his heart. "Peyton, you're amazing. You have such a great heart and such an incredible soul. Never think for a second you're not good enough."_

_She closed her eyes for a second and hesitantly nodded. She looked up at him again and there was something in her gaze that unsettled him. He barely had time to react before she leaned up, pressing her lips to his. And as realization clicked into place in his head, finally realizing that what he had seen in her eyes was not just sadness, but need as well, he could do nothing but kiss her back. _

Brooke had stormed off and he knew he should probably go after her, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He sidestepped anyone who tried to get in his way, taking off in the direction Peyton had gone. He found her in the library, her head buried in her arms as she sat in a quiet corner. He whispered her name and she looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, her cheeks wet with tears.

"What have you done, Luke?"

A lump rose up in his throat. "I'm sorry. It just came out."

She groaned, rubbing her hand against her temple. "This isn't something we can take back, Lucas."

"…I know…but Peyton…"

"What?"

He swallowed, vulnerable as his eyes pleaded with her. "Come here?"

She sighed but did as he asked, coming to stand in front of him. For a few minutes, he just stared at her and she shifted uncomfortably. "Look, Luke, I'm gonna head home."

"I'll come with you."

She shook her head. "No. That'll just give the rumor mill more to work with. Stay here."

He reluctantly agreed. "Peyton? Do one thing for me?"

"…yeah…"

"Let me hold you?"

He tucked her into his arms, holding her tightly against him, and for the few minutes she allowed the embrace, his world felt right again.

_They made the necessary protests to each other, weak and required of them. It was wrong, there was Brooke and Jake to think about…they were just friends. But the empty feeling inside them both was hard to ignore, and the warmth of the other was so tempting to lose themselves in. She had just been left by her lover, dealt with mysterious messages bordering on stalking, been confronted by a woman claiming to be her mother. He had pulled his father from a fire, wondering if he made the right decision for a man who may not have been worth saving, been diagnosed with a heart disease that threatened everything he'd worked so hard for in the name of his love for basketball, gone to Brooke, wanting to see if the attention and affection she had been giving him of late could become something deeper, and basically been rejected. _

_It hurt. It hurt deeply. They wouldn't delude themselves enough to think passion, desire or lust was what drove them. There was need, a need for comfort, a need to soothe the ache inside. But there was love as well, and that was the most fulfilling part of it all. _

_She had long since given in, lured by his warmth, his touch, his kisses, as he took care of her like he always had. _

_Peyton Sawyer always had a way of getting to him. No matter what, he would never be able to resist. _

_Without another thought, they gave in, and for the first time, joined together in making love. _


	7. Chapter 6: Monday Rain

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Six: Monday Rain**

Evening had fallen faster than he had expected, the rest of his day passing him by in a meaningless blur. The weather seemed to reflect his mood, ashen-colored skies only shifted by the inky black of night, rain pounding rhythmically off the tin roofing above his head.

"Lucas."

He had been lying on his bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, but at the sound of his mother's voice, he wearily turned his head, knowing what was coming. Karen was standing at his doorway, Keith at her shoulder. "I got a call from the principal this afternoon. He says you were fighting at school. Not only that, you've been suspended for three days. When were you planning on telling me?"

Lucas groaned, burying his face in his pillow. "Mom, not now. Today's been way too shitty to get into this."

"Lucas Eugene! Language."

"Sorry."

Keith placed a hand on Karen's shoulder. "Whitey rang here too. He said he's not benching you, but you were close. He's warning you not to mess up again, but in his own way, he sounded worried. Luke, son, what's going on?"

Lucas sighed, looking up at them with tired eyes. "Well…"

Both adults stepped into the room, Keith sitting in the desk chair, Karen at the foot of the bed as her son sat up to face her. "I'm guessing it's a long story?" she asked him.

He smiled wryly, albeit weakly. "Depends on where you want to begin."

Karen gave him a sharp look, making it clear there was no room for sarcasm in this conversation. "Try the beginning."

"I slept with Peyton last summer."

He supposed it was better to use the band-aid method in this situation. Do it quick and painless as possible, and then wait for the fallout. And given the expression on his mother's face already, he knew it was only the beginning. "And she got pregnant."

Karen's expression was blank, yielding no clue of her feelings to her nervous son. He closed his eyes, expecting a slap in flashback to the year before with Brooke's false alarm. Instead, he felt a firm pressure of her hand against his cheek, tilting his face back around to face her. "Keep going."

Indeed, Karen Roe's first reaction to her son's news had been that same mixture of fear, anger and disappointment that prompted her to strike him before- much to her shame. But we all learn from experience and this time was no exception. This time around, she was determined to stay calm and rational long enough to hear him out. Aside from that, there was a certain catch to her son's words, as if his throat had choked them off, and she knew there was more to the story than she was expecting.

Lucas took in a deep breath, bracing himself to tell her the rest, details he'd never spoken aloud with anyone but Peyton. "It was one night. We were lonely and hurting and we turned to each other. We were careful- I swear to God we were- but after a couple of weeks she started thinking something was off. She came to me and we went to the clinic together. We did a lot of talking. Neither of us could consider getting rid of it and adoption wasn't something we wanted- not with what Peyton was going through with Ellie. So…we decided to keep it."

He looked up, inadvertently meeting Keith's eyes. There was a hint of something there, accompanied by a nod from the older man, that Lucas could have sworn was approval for the way he'd stepped up for Peyton. He paused.

Karen watched her son closely, her heart dropping with trepidation as she realized he was trembling, refusing to look at them. "There's more, isn't there? Peyton would have to be four or five months along by now."

"Six, actually," her son murmured absently.

"Six, then. I've seen her, and she isn't showing at all, so she can't still be pregnant. What happened? Did she go through with an abortion after all?"

Lucas shook his head. "No. Things didn't exactly go as planned. We only made it about thirteen weeks before Peyton miscarried…we didn't get rid of it, we lost it…"

"Oh, Lucas." Karen reached out to him, attempting to take his hand, but he shrugged her away, not through with his narrative.

"There's more." He stopped again and if Karen hadn't been aware of how sensitive their topic was, she would have sighed at his intermissions, "After what happened, we never talked about it. We just kinda buried it. But last week…somebody released the time capsule we recorded a couple months ago," both adults gave nods of acknowledgement, having heard the news of what happened at the high school, "Peyton had talked about the baby on her recording, and everyone suddenly knew." He swallowed her, avoiding their eyes again, "There were some guys that ganged up on Peyton this morning. The bastard," he ignored the reprimanding look his mother gave him for his language, "Insulted both her and the baby. I pretty much lost it then and there. I ended up blurting out that I was the father, and it just all went to hell after that."

"Oh, Lucas," Karen shook her head, Lucas not denying her this time when she grasped his hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I…"

"Yes, Luke. Why didn't you say anything?"

Lucas groaned at the familiar voice coming from the doorway, seeing his irate sister-in-law and nervous-looking brother standing there. He broke from his mother's hold, burying his face in his hands. "What the hell is this?" he grumbled with frustration, "An intervention?!"

Haley didn't look amused in the least, radiating disapproval, disappointment and anger in amounts that even outweighed Karen's. She stood with her hands at her hips, tapping her foot. "You could probably use one at this point, Lucas Scott."

Lucas's head snapped over to her, his jaw clenching with annoyance and Nathan grabbed his wife's elbow, trying to steer her toward the living room. "Hales, let's leave this for now."

"No, I want to know what in the hell my so-called best friend could have been thinking?"

"There wasn't much thought involved," Lucas shot back at her with a bitter dryness, "How'd you find out anyway?"

"Rumors are flying all over school, Luke. Is it all true?"

"At the rate I'm going, it probably is." Haley glared, most likely ready to yell at him some more, but a soft rapping at Lucas's door cut them all off, much to Luke's relief. He swung his feet over the bed to get up, striding over to the door to swing it open, slightly wary of the outside downpour.

The girl who stood before him was the most unexpected sight.

Drenched to the bone, the wet clothing stuck as close as a second skin to her slight, delicate frame, reminding him just how small she was, how fragile she seemed in that moment.  
Hands buried deep into the pockets of her leather jacket, she shifted her weight from foot to foot as she cautiously looked up at the open-mouthed Lucas. Blond hair plastered to her face by the rain, droplets ran in tiny rivulets down her cheeks, and green eyes bore into him, their stormy depths as intense and pain-filled.

"Peyton?"

He stepped aside to let her through, to get her out of the rain, "I-I'm sorry for barging in like this, Luke-" Her words cut off as she caught sight of the room's other occupants. She immediately paled and began backing away, mumbling more apologies. "God, I'm sorry. I…um…I'm sorry to interrupt. I'll just go." She whirled around to do just that, but Lucas caught her arm, gently turning her to face him.

"Peyton, wait." She looked up at him with those haunted green eyes, so full of pain, and he wondered how much of the dampness on her cheeks was raindrops, and how much was her own tears. "What's wrong?"

He could see her fight with herself, fighting back more tears and all that escaped her was a low whimper of struggle. He reached up, stroking his fingers against her wet cheek. "Baby, you're shaking. Talk to me."

"Luke," and there it was, a low, aching whisper of his name, and then she was flinging herself into his arms, clinging to him desperately as he gathered her up into his embrace. She buried his face in the crook of his neck as he lifted her up, carrying her to his bed as he sat at the edge, settling her into his lap.

"What happened, sweetheart?"

The endearment drew from her a weak smile as she curled up against him, her head against his shoulder. "I-God, Luke, what have I done?"

"Peyt…honey…"

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped her, an ugly sound that had him tightening his arms around her, wishing with all his might that he could protect her from the monsters in her mind as in the real world. "I tore everything apart, Lucas. I betrayed her, and Jake, and us…"

"Oh, sweetheart," he shook his head, "No, no. Stop that. If anyone's to blame for all this, it's me."

She opened her mouth to speak, but never had the chance as his eyes suddenly changed, darkened, hardened in less time than a heartbeat as he grabbed her chin, turning her face to gain a better view of the swelling bruise on her left cheek.

"Who hit you?" his voice was deceptively soft, laced with an undercurrent of hardened anger.

"Brooke came by earlier…she was angry…"

His eyes widened and she could see the way they darkened with his rage, "Brooke did this?" he hissed incredulously.

She shifted uncomfortably in his lap, looking him sheepishly in the eye, "Don't get angry, Luke. I deserved it-"

"No!" he startled her with the sudden vehemence in his voice and she jumped but he softened as he realized the wary way she was looking at him, "No, Peyton, you didn't deserve this. This was going too far." He gently touched the black-blue mark, his anger fading to be replaced with concern, "Are you okay? Does it still hurt? Should I-"

"I'm fine," she assured him, tilting her head up to press a kiss to his cheek, nuzzling against the light stubble of his chin, letting herself feel the familiar comfort of his embrace despite her guilt. She breathed in the scent of him, a warm, masculine spice entirely Lucas. He smiled down at him and that smile was so kind, so gentle toward her; he was so sweet…

As she trembled, he thought her cold, but another shudder followed, one after the other until her entire body was shaking with silent sobs, and her tears were soaking the fabric of his shirt.

She hadn't cried this intensely in front of him in quite a while and he hesitated for just a moment before he was there to rock her gently back and forth, as he whispered reassuringly into her ear, jumbled, indecipherable sounds that made little sense. It didn't matter; she cared little for sensible things right then and there, and his voice was soothing, an anchor among the sea of pent-up pain, as much as the hand gently rubbing circles along her back. But even with his reassurance, the pain just kept building and building like a broken dam and she couldn't stop.

The sobs grew heavier; her entire body shaking from the force of them and Lucas began to panic inside, especially as he heard her cough between cries, realizing she was starting to hyperventilate. "C'mon, Peyton, you need to calm down some, honey." He lay back against the bed, stretching her out against him to make it easier for her to breathe. "Breathe, baby. Just breathe for me."

She nodded against his chest, fighting for breath as she sought to do as he had asked. She breathed out fast and heavy, falling to her last resort as she desperately pulled at the buttons of his shirt.

The entire time, they had completely forgotten they had an audience, who were so incredulously captivated by what they were witnessing. They all felt helpless as Peyton broke down, uncertain if there was anything they could do to help. Watching Peyton begin what looked like undressing her best friend, Haley frowned disapprovingly, stepping forward to intervene. Both Karen and Keith caught her arm to pull her back, Karen shaking her head for her not to interrupt. They went back to watching, waiting to see what would happen next and when they could get answers.

Catching on quickly but noticing her trembling hands, Lucas finished the job for her, quickly unfastening his shirt and pulling it open, pushing up the wife-beater he wore beneath, baring his torso to her. He pulled her tightly to him and she pressed her face to his chest. Her hand fumbled along his arm, finding his wrist, and her fingers pressed firmly against his pulse.

She closed her eyes, focusing on him and nothing more. The others watched in shock as she slowly calmed, the tremors running through her body quieting and her tears drying up. Nathan reached down to grasp his wife's hand, staring at his brother and friend with awe. "It's his heartbeat," he whispered softly, so quiet Haley had to fight to hear him.

She looked up at him quizzically. "What?"

Nathan pointed to the entwined pair, "It's his heartbeat she was looking for," he elaborated, "I think it calms her down." Her eyes widening but nodding her agreement, Haley leaned into her husband as he wrapped an arm around her waist, quiet and thoughtful.

Peyton lay quietly against her…she wasn't sure how to define him- ex-boyfriend, on-off lover, hero, or the father of her lost child…perhaps her best friend. Really, she thought, he was all that mixed into one. Lucas was gently rubbing her back, brushing his lips against her temple. "Better?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. A little." She drew back to look at him, saw his eyes full of pain and uncertainty, and her heart ached for having caused him such worry.

"You sure?"

"Hmm-mm."

She shivered and he frowned, remembering her soaked state. He sat up, still cradling her against him. "I'm sorry, Peyt. I completely forgot. You've got to be freezing." He stood, peeling off her jacket, Peyton lifting her arms to help him. He hung it over the back of his chair to dry. "A hot shower ought to warm you up. You do that and I'll get you some dry clothes, 'kay?"

She looked uncomfortably at the group assembled at the door but he turned his face back toward him, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her eyes widened with surprise to the proximity of his kiss, closer to that forbidden territory they hadn't crossed into since the night they conceived their son. Lucas, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing. He was showing his family just where he stood with Peyton, how it was he cared about her, and they were expected to respect that.

"C'mon," he said gently, taking her hands to pull her up, "You get warmed up and in the meantime, I'll make you something to eat."

"Luke, I'm not really hungry…"

"Maybe not, but you haven't had anything all day, have you?" at her guilty nod, he persisted, "I thought so. Just eat a little something, okay? For me. You're looking too pale for your own good, Sawyer."

Managing a small smile at his teasing tone, she stood quietly as he shrugged off the shirt eh had been wearing, leaving him in his undershirt, having her feeling a little embarrassed as she remembered the damp spots all over his previous garment, from both her tears and the rainwater clinging to her. He then pulled his bathrobe from the closet, folding it over his arm as he wrapped the other around her. A look from Lucas had the various Scotts parting the way for them and silently, Lucas led her down the hall toward the bathroom.


	8. Chapter 7: Might Have Been

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Seven: Might Have Been**

He had not said a word since they left his bedroom, making their way down the hallway toward the bathroom. But there wasn't anything uncomfortable about his silence; instead, strangely enough, it seemed to wrap around her with all the things he did not need to vocalize, strong, steady and sheltering, just like Lucas himself.

The door clicked shut behind them, the only sound being the sudden whirring above them as he flipped the switch for the exhaust fan. He had grabbed a stack of towels from the linen closet as they passed and he set those as well as the robe on the toilet seat. Without turning to her, leaning over the tub, he asked her softly, "Shower or bath?"

"Shower's fine," she whispered in reply, barely able to find her voice in the overwhelming circumstances surrounding them.

He nodded his understanding, twisting on the knobs, adjusting the temperature with expertise. He knew what she preferred- it wasn't the first time he had run water for her, and at the rate they were going, it probably wouldn't be the last. He started it, ducking out just in time before he soaked his head, turning toward her and reaching toward her. She knew his intentions, but before he could grasp her clothes, she shook her head.

"I'll do it."

"Sure," he brushed her hair out of her face, looking down at her tenderly, "Take as long as you need. Put on my robe when you're done and go to my room, okay? We can dig you up something from my drawers."

She nodded and he pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving her to her shower. The moment he entered the kitchen, he could feel the weight of his mother and Haley's eyes on him. He made a disgruntled sound, scowling at them as he went to the refrigerator. Opening it, he stared at the contents, his brow furrowing as he remained indecisive. With a sigh, he closed the door, leaning back against it with his arms folded across his chest.

"She can't have been eating much lately," he grumbled to himself, though audible enough for the two women to hear him. "She's lost too much weight for her own good. Why didn't I notice before?" He rubbed a hand over his face, mumbling almost incoherently, "She hasn't been this bad since W-" he cut himself off quickly, his jaw clenching with frustration.

The guilt was heavy in his voice and Karen sighed softly, "Lucas…"

He glanced up at her momentarily and then looked away, giving a heavy shrug, an international gesture for 'I don't want to talk about it'.

Haley's expression was concerned as she stepped over to his side, placing a hand on his arm. "Luke, you have to talk about this sometime."

He grunted in response, ignoring her. "If she hasn't been eating, I don't know what she'll be able to handle. Mom, do you-"

"She'll need something light," Karen replied, "Some soup should do the trick."

He nodded, shuffling his way around when Haley tried grabbing him again and he stiffened, "Luke, how can we help?"

Lucas pulled away from her once more, looking to rummage through the cupboards. "I can handle it, Haley. I've done this before," he spared her a look, "The rest of it can wait for tomorrow. Peyton's my first priority right now." He frowned, turning his head to the side in thought, "She's been in there a while…"

Karen stepped forward then, placing her hands gently on his shoulders and giving a guiding nudge toward the hall. "Why don't you check on her, Lucas? I'll make some of my chicken soup in the meantime. That should settle alright with her stomach," she turned her head, "Haley, honey, why don't you and Nathan head on home? It's been a long day for everyone."

Haley hesitated, throwing a worried glance in Lucas's direction but she conceded, stepping over to her best friend. She leaned up, and much to his surprise, wrapped her arms around his neck (he'd been thinking she'd much rather wrap them around his throat instead). He tentatively returned her embrace and she held him tightly, exhaling unsteadily before whispering in his ear, "Take care of her, Luke."

"I always do."

--

The first thing he heard upon softly closing the door to the bathroom behind him was the unmistakable sound of Peyton's crying. It was never a heavy sound; she neither sobbed, nor wailed, nor spoke out against the world. Instead, it was a quiet, gasping rhythm of choking, shuddering breath, something that would not be audible to just anyone above the noise of the running shower. But Lucas was closely in tune with Peyton- his Peyton- and he knew the sounds of her distress better than his own breath. He partially pulled back the curtain, exposing the sight of her. She was huddled in the corner of the bath, knees drown up to her chest and head buried in her arms as she quietly cried.

"Peyton."

Her head whipped around to face him, her eyes widening at the sight of him. "Luke?" she wiped at her eyes, making a sound halfway between a sniff and a mortified laugh. "I'm sorry. I just can't stop crying."

"You don't have to apologize." He watched for a moment, thoughtful, and then suddenly decisive, he stepped back. Her eyes widened as he pulled his wife-beater over his head, reaching down to his belt. "Luke, everyone's just in the other room…"

"I don't care. Does it matter?"

His eyes were soft but questioning as they met hers and slowly, Peyton shook her head. He smiled, finishing with his belt and then the button and zip to his jeans. Socks and underwear followed and in all his naked glory, he stepped into the shower with her.

He was immediately enveloped in a wet heat as he closed the curtain behind him, reaching out to give her a hand up. A tight embrace, bodies pressing together with loving intimacy. Hands glided over flesh, hot, wet and sleek. The added slickness of soap as they washed. The taste of water on skin, simple and clean, as lips pressed to cheek, neck and shoulder.

They were entwined tightly, his arms around her, her hands lazily sliding up his back, face cradled in the crook of his neck. She pressed a kiss to his pulse point, pausing at the steady fluttering beneath her lips, and she smiled. He felt the smile and he returned it with one of his own, brushing his mouth against her temple. She was warm and wet and soft, and then she shifted against him. He was hit by a feeling he hadn't felt in a long while (_in a blatant sort of way, that is, for he always has a certain, underlying awareness of Peyton, beautiful and precious to him, bringing up attractions and passions no one else ever could_) and it stirred him in a disconcerting way.

Heat spiked through him, sudden awareness that it wasn't just the woman he loved, sheltered and cared for, pressed against him, but a beautiful woman- breasts and curves and those long legs he'd imagined wrapped around him once or twice or twenty- he'd long since desired, and that heat did nothing but grow. He closed his eyes as something pulled in his loins, inwardly berating himself as Peyton felt the unmistakable evidence of him hardening at her hip.

Sexuality seemed like such a forbidden thing between them, even more so now than it had been before that fateful summer. They hadn't kissed nor had they touched each other with any kind of sexual implication since that night. But that didn't change that it had happened. And they both knew that with a heavy, burdensome ache in their hearts. If Lucas's guilt was such a powerful thing, it pained him to know just how much Peyton was carrying around with her.

He looked away uncomfortably, attempting to pull away. But Peyton held tight to him. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it." She rested her head against his chest. "I just want you close."

He leaned his chin against the top of her head and sharply exhaled. "Okay."

They stepped out of the shower as the water grew cold, Lucas wrapping a towel around his waist, holding out his robe to her. She slipped into it and as he was pulling it closed and belted it tight, she leisurely nuzzled against his cheek. Her nose wrinkled up for a moment and he looked down at her questionably. "What?"

She smiled wryly. "It scratches."

He ran a hand over his face, remembering his mind had been elsewhere so much lately, and it had indeed been several days since he had shaved, creating a mess of stubble that itched against his face. He moved to rectify it and when she shyly asked if she could do it for him; he had no reason to object, leaning against the counter to fulfill her request.

They were quiet as she worked up lather between her hands, her fingers lithe and gentle as they guided the razor across his skin, only pausing to cup his chin in order to angle his head. He reveled in the feel of her touching him so softly, rinsing and then gently padding a towel to dry him off. She ran the back of her fingers along his jaw-line and he smiled at her. "Better?"

She nodded. "Better."

"Glad you approve." He commented wryly.

She glided her fingers over his skin once more, murmuring softly. "Smooth."

He mimicked her actions, stroking her cheek. "Soft," he countered.

He leaned his forehead against hers and they smiled at each other. Soft, warm smiles. Tender smiles.

Loving smiles.

Even if they refused to admit it.

--

Lucas wasn't surprised, only sad, when he found her gone from his bed the next morning. It was early, barely dawn, and already the spot beside him had gone cold. He lay back for a long while, staring mutely at the ceiling, letting the façade of strength he wore slip just enough to let him miss her. In the midst of his thoughts, he reached out for his phone and dialed a familiar number- breathing a sigh of relief when the call was answered, by someone he found himself needing.

He was at the Rivercourt, when his visitor quietly approached him. He was seated at the bleachers and she sat slightly behind him, resting a hand against his back. "Lucas."

"I'm sorry."

Haley shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like I did. I don't approve of what went on between you and Peyton, but that wasn't really the issue. And that part's really none of my business. I wasn't so much angry as I was hurt, that you hadn't told me about any of it. About Peyton, the baby, anything. Something so monumental happened to my _best friend_, something that so obviously hurt him, and I had no idea."

He hanged his head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

She sighed and rested her head against the back of his shoulder. "Stop apologizing," she gently chided.

He nodded, looking out over the asphalt before them. "Y'know, after I first found out, I was scared out of my mind. I was so sure I had ruined everything, for her, for myself, for whomever else. But after a while…when it started to set in…" he smiled softly, "We were here when we started talking about names. I think she was about…maybe a month along. I was so happy, Hales. Like, deliriously happy. And when Peyton mentioned the name should definitely be Scott, no question about it. It was like something really clicked in me, some kind of realization. That we were going to have a baby. That it was _my _child inside her. I felt like flying, Hales."

Tears welled up in his eyes and he irritably blinked them away. "I was going to be a dad, Haley. A _dad_."

She wrapped her arms around him, wanting so badly to tell him it was okay, or even that it was alright to let him cry. But he seemed so resolute to stay silent and strong, that all she could do was hold him.

His arms went around her in return, and held him she did.

--

Nathan Scott was both nervous and solemn as he parked his truck, trekking the last few feet to the solitary figure sitting at the edge of a bridge, the same place she had asked him to meet. Apprehensive but worried, he sat down beside her, looking at her as opposed to her distant eyes fixed on the extended horizon. After a while, she finally spoke. "Sorry to bother you so early, Nate. I just…I didn't know else to call."

"It's okay. But just out of curiosity, what about Luke?"

She shook her head. "After a night like last night, Lucas…he's just a little overwhelming. He means well, and he really does take care of me, but when it's that intense when we're together…sometimes I just need some time away."

He nodded understandably. "That makes sense." He reached out, taking her hand. Her fingers wrapped around his. "What's going on, Sawyer? How can I help?"

"Its three months today."

He turned his head around to face her. "What is?"

"The day I lost the baby."

His face fell, his eyes soft and sad as he squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she hesitated for a moment and then quietly asked him, "Will you come somewhere with me?"

--

He goes home, Haley inadvertently following after him, an air about her telling him in no uncertain terms that she wasn't leaving his side anytime soon. It was nearly seven and he knew his mother and Keith would be awake; he wasn't surprised in the least to find them both in the living room- she would have found his bed empty that morning, and been worried. He spoke quietly and uncertainly as he asked a favor of them, to accompany him somewhere. Karen embraced him and Keith reassuringly squeezed his shoulder, as they agreed without question.

No one said anything as they climbed into the car, Lucas at the wheel, even as they came to their destination and began to walk. He led the way, drawn like a magnet to where he wanted to go, knowledgeable of his path as he had walked it so many times before. They quickly approached and while the sight of a head of curly blonde hair, another of short-cut black, should have surprised him, somehow it didn't in the end. Both heads swung their way as their feet padded against the grass, the occasional leaf or wayward stick cracking beneath their feet. Nathan was surprised but Peyton showed that same strange sense of understanding Lucas was experiencing and he knelt down beside her, placing his hand over hers.

She gripped his fingers and he gave them a gentle squeeze, both their eyes fixed on the gravestone before them.

**William Sawyer Scott  
August 24, 2005**

"**Of all nature's gifts to the human race,  
what is sweeter to man than his children?"**

And for a long while, all was silent.


	9. Chapter 8: I Get It

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

A/N: It is so good to be back!! My laptop crashed a couple weeks ago. All my half-finished chapters were on the hard drive. I'm so glad to have a warranty. Only downside of said warranty: it takes forever.

But I'm baaaaaaaaaccckkkk!! _Ahem_…I'm running on three cups of coffee after a sleepless night, don't mind me. Anyway, enough of my complaining…on with the chapter.

**Chapter Eight: I Get It**

_It was surreal to realize the difference in his reaction to Brooke's "I think I'm pregnant" and Peyton's "I'm late". With Brooke, he had been panicked…scared…disappointed to the point of nearly making himself sick with worry at the idea of having a baby with the girl he had betrayed, who hated his guts, while still being in love with her best friend. Not exactly the best scenario to make a happy home._

_As Peyton stood before him months later, clearly scared but matter-of-fact, the situation felt vastly different. He immediately knew what she meant and while he wasn't sure how to react, he managed to remain strangely calm. They went to the clinic together that very afternoon and when her test results came back positive…they were left to go back from there. For the rest of the appointment, she zoned out after they were given her prognosis. She was mute and guarded for the rest of the visit and the ride home. When they came back to her place, she went through the "freaking out" stage, pacing and babbling all the reasons that this shouldn't have happened, how unprepared they were, and oh, god…was this really happening?_

"_I can't believe this is happening." She had calmed down some, seated at the edge of her bed, head buried in her hands. He was leaning against a nearby wall, watching her uneasily. He noticed her trembling ever so slightly and he crossed the room. He knelt beside her, cautiously placing a hand against her leg. "Hey."_

_She looked up, throwing her arms around him and pressing as close as she could get to him. She buried her face in his chest, her hands clutching at his shirt and Lucas pressed a kiss to her forehead, soothingly rubbing her back. "Peyton, I just wanted to tell you that I'm not going anywhere. No matter what you decide, I'm here."_

_Peyton raised her head, wiping at the tears that had gathered in her eyes. "Thanks, Luke. That means a lot. But I know this is your decision too."_

_He smiled softly, but still hesitated, not wanting to seem as if he was pressuring her in anyway. "Really, Peyton, it's your body, I-"_

_She cut him off. "Lucas, it's your life too."_

_He breathed out with relief. "Thank you."_

_She hesitantly met his eyes. "Do you…do you want to keep it?"_

_He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek, giving her an uneasy smile. "Honestly? Yeah, I sorta do."_

_She stared at him, wide-eyed, but he pressed on nonetheless. "I don't want to push you into anything, Peyton. I just…I came so close to not existing. I think about my mom and I and how close we are and I've always wanted to be a dad." He realized he was babbling and quickly closed his mouth, blushing. _

_Still in shock, Peyton absently noticed the red pallor coloring his cheeks. The man before her had…A, been an active participant in their past makeouts; B, date one of the more promiscuous girl at their school (she loved her best friend, but it was the truth); C, had sex with her (several times that night) less than two weeks ago…was blushing after admitting he wanted to have a baby with her. There had to be some strange irony to this. _

"_Luke." She placed a hand against his cheek, coaxing him to look back at her. "I'm scared as hell, Luke, I really am…but…"_

"_But?"_

_She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I can't believe we're really doing this."_

_He lit up, his breath catching. "You mean…?"_

"_Yeah, I mean."_

_He nuzzled against her temple and smiled as he closed his eyes. They were having a baby. _

_--_

_She found herself dragged, though not unwillingly, from the drowsy, floating sensation of light, dozing sleep, grounded back to reality was the barely audible sound of boots against the wooden floors. The noise was coming from downstairs, not really disturbing her as she knew it to be Lucas. She sighed contently, stretching out with a laziness that could only be contributed to a good sleep. She had to admit, in the two weeks since the father of her child (it still felt odd to call him that) had started sharing her bed, she had never been so well rested as she had been lately. _

_Her sleepy green gaze drifted to the end of the bed, and meeting a dozen eyes staring back at her, she screamed. Almost immediately, she could hear the crashing of Lucas racing up the stairs, cursing loudly as he tripped or stumbled in his haste. He appeared in the doorway, breath heavy as his eyes settled on her with obvious panicked concern. _

"_Lucas, what the hell?" she murmured, pointing to the edge of her bed. _

_His worry faded to sheepishness, and he gave her an embarrassed smile. Seated in a row along the end of the bed was half-a-dozen stuffed toys, four bears with a dog and a cow in between for variety. Six sets of glassy eyes and sewed up smiles stared back at her as she looked from them to the man nearby. _

"_Um…sorry?"_

_She shook her head, laughing incredulously. "What did you do? Rob a toy-store?"_

_He rubbed the back of his neck. "I…uh…I bought them for the baby."_

_She smiled, sitting herself up more comfortably this time. "Luke, honey, it's a little early for that, don't you think? Besides, newborns are tiny. A regular toy will probably dwarf him."_

"_Oh," his face fell and she instantly felt terrible to ruin that boyish enthusiasm practically twinkling in his eyes. _

"_Lucas, come here." Still wearing that kicked puppy expression, he did as she asked, shuffling across the carpet to sit beside her. She reached up, cupped his face and guided him to look at her. "This is sweet of you, Luke. We can put them away until he's a little older, how's that?"_

_He smiled and Peyton was relieved to see the warmth return to his eyes. "Okay. I just…I was in town earlier getting dinner and I saw some of them in the window. I couldn't resist."_

_Peyton leaned her forehead against his. "He is going to be so spoiled."_

_He brushed his lips against her temple. "You keep saying that. He?"_

"_Yeah. We are so having a boy."_

_He drew back a little, cocking an eyebrow. "We are? How do you know that?"_

"_Mother's intuition."_

_He chuckled. "Speaking of mothers, how was your nap?"_

"_Good."_

_He wrapped an arm around her and she shifted over, giving him enough room to stretch out beside her. She placed her head on his shoulder and he kissed her hair, the pair comfortable with this new intimacy between them. _

"_Are you feeling better? Cause I did buy things for dinner."_

_She leaned her head up to look at him. "Yeah, I'm feeling better. I guess that's why they call it morning sickness, huh?" She kissed his cheek. The gesture was unexpected but more than welcome and he gave her a shy smile. "I found the tea and toast you left me this morning. Thank you."_

"_Did it help?"_

"_It stayed down better than anything else."_

_He nodded. "I did some reading. There are some herbal teas that are supposed to help settle your stomach, but it was hard to find one without caffeine, so I hope it tasted okay. And I looked at some of the pamphlets the doctor gave us. It said you were going to feel sick for a few months, but it was important to try and keep down a steady diet if you could. Losing weight could be really bad for the baby-" He cut off as he took in the soft, amused look she was giving him. "What?"_

"_Nothing," she smiled, "I was just thinking of how sweet you are. How much have you read?"_

"_Um…I may have read a few things once or twice."_

_Still amused, she couldn't help but ask. "What would that be exactly?"_

_Purposely avoiding her eyes, he climbed out of the bed, rummaged through his nearby backpack and sheepishly handed her the book. Reading the title, she laughed. "'What to Expect When You're Expecting'?"_

_He shrugged. "The woman at the bookstore showed me a bunch of stuff, but I didn't have much cash on me. This was the only one that sounded familiar." Trying to distract his attention from the memory of how out of place he felt asking questions and the more amused the saleswoman seemed to be the more confused he became, he turned back to his bag. "Oh, I got you something else too. I think we kinda forgot about the prescription from the doc."_

_She smiled once again- she couldn't seem to stop doing that- as he handed her a bottle of prenatal vitamins, looking at her shyly from the corner of his eye. "Thank you," She got up, kissing his cheek once more as she passed. "You're going to make an amazing father, Lucas Scott."_

_She delighted in the way he blushed as she brushed by him, casually asking, "So, what are we having? I'm starving." _

(a/n: I actually did some of these things myself when I first found out I was going to be a dad. I was 20 and a little overenthusiastic, but when you find out you created a whole 'nother life, can they blame you?)

--

_They lay quietly together on her bed, her curtains open to let in highlights of the setting sun. Fire seemed to spill through her window, bathing their bodies in streaks of red and gold and orange. Her eyes were hooded against the lingering glare but she couldn't bring herself to close them, instead keeping her gaze focused on the man stretched out beside her. _

_His arms were loosely draped around her waist, his head pillowed against his stomach, eyes closed. The only movement from him was the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, a soft smile curving his mouth. A murmur of contentment escaped him as she idly stroked his hair, leaning into her hand as she ran her fingers through the blonde locks- they always had been softer than they looked. _

_She didn't know when they fell asleep, but it was dark outside when she was suddenly awoken, taken by surprise as she heard the unmistakable sound of Lucas's voice, still resting in the same position, keeping up a low, muttering litany. _

_She cracked an eye open. "Luke, what are you doing?"_

_He looked up at her, placing a finger against his lips. "Shh. This is a private conversation."_

_She arched an eyebrow. "Really?"_

"_Yep. This is between Daddy and baby. Mommies aren't allowed."_

"_That's not fair."_

_He squinted at her, smiling a little. "It's guy talk."_

"_What's guy talk consist of?"_

"_I was just telling him all the things I was going to teach him. Basketball, cars," he grinned mischievously, "How to spit…how to drink from the carton…how to leave the toilet seat up…"_

_She smiled indulgently. "Is that right?"_

"_Hmm-mm."_

_She reached up, touching her fingers to his cheek. "Go to sleep, Daddy. We all need our rest."_

_He smiled and did as requested, curling up beside her. Peyton nestled against his body and as Lucas tucked her into his arms, she sighed contently. _

_Sleep came easy that night. _

--

Lucas and Peyton were still both kneeling before their son's gravestone, neither bothering to look up at friends and family as their hands entwined, solely focused on their child's resting place.

Lucas was the first to speak. "It's pretty unusual for parents to bury a miscarried child so young. The hospital was reluctant enough to let us see him, let alone make arrangements for his body. We just…we didn't want him to be some dirty little secret."

Peyton softly added, "We didn't want to forget."

Lucas nodded. "I'm not ashamed. He wasn't a mistake. It happened. He was real. He was my son."

Peyton blinked back tears, taking in a shaky breath as Lucas reassuringly squeezed her hand. "We didn't mean to hide it. It's like Luke said. I'm not ashamed. We're not ashamed. The fact we had a baby isn't something to bury under the rug. It just…"

"…hurt too much to remember," Lucas finished for her.

He finally let himself look up at his family members and quietly, he waited for their reactions.


	10. Chapter 9: No Good

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Nine: No Good**

Lucas Scott lay on his living room couch, warmly wrapped within his mother's arms. He hadn't been held this way by her since the time of him and Brooke's false alarm. He had been so scared then, not only of the uncertainty of fatherhood, the ruining of not just his future but Brooke's as well, the disappointment he was invoking in his mother. But when he had started to cry and she had embraced him, holding him to her, letting him feel safe and loved.

There hadn't been much vocal reaction from their family that morning. He and Peyton had been the only ones to really speak. There had been quiet tears from Haley and Karen, embraces from each and every one of them. He could still remember the way each pair of arms wrapped around him- his mother's nurture, Haley's love, Keith's strength, Nathan's brotherly connection. Each hug was sympathetic and caring, silently telling him they understood and they were there for him. Peyton had received much the same treatment, his heart relieved and warming as he saw the family tenderness shown toward her. Haley's sisterly, Nathan's brotherly, Karen's maternal, and Keith's fatherly. He wanted to think now, that the Scott family was how as much hers as it was his.

She had been avoiding touching him. While it hurt a bit, he could still understand her distance. Once upon a time, he had seen Peyton completely fall apart, and then hide away her pain in a way he had interpreted as moving on. Now he could see a familiar strength rising up in her, slow but steadily building. He could only hope it was the starting steps toward healing.

Nathan and Haley went on to school around seven-thirty, Keith to open the café in Karen's place and his mother insisting he stay home that day with her company. So here they sat, just the two of them, Karen quietly patient as she waited for him to speak.

"It's my fault, Mom."

"Oh, honey, I'm sure that's not true."

"But it is," he choked out a sob, tears pooling in his eyes and Karen cradled his head against her chest, stroking his hair. Between finally letting himself cry, he spilled the details of what had happened that fatal night.

"We were arguing that night. We were both on edge and it just kind of exploded until we were screaming at each other. She stormed off to the bathroom and locked me out. I figured I should give her some time to cool off, so I went down to the living room. Then…then I heard her scream." His eyes closed wearily as he forced himself to continue.

"I had to break down the door to get to her. I found her on the floor, clutching at her stomach and crying. I tried to help her up and I saw the blood between her legs, soaking through her jeans. I got her to the hospital as fast as I could, but…I wasn't quick enough. She lost the baby that night."

_Two in the morning in the hospital, cold, empty corridors, the only sounds a low buzz of conversation from the late night workers at the desk or the occasional ring of a phone. The luminescent lights in the hall cast a dull glow on the figure sitting alone in the empty row of waiting chairs below. The lone figure of a young man, his tall frame sat hunched over, elbows to his knees, face buried in his hands. Black t-shirt, dark jeans and jacket fit well to his lean but well-fit body, the worn denim jacket pulled close around his shoulders in an attempt to fight the chill of the empty hallways._

_He raised his face from his hands, a youthful, handsome face that made the subtle lines etched by stress seem all the more foreign. An ageless maturity shone in blue eyes, one that could never be attributed to his age. Lucas had seen more than his fair share in life, more than any man ever should. Especially when that man had, in so many ways, still been a boy._

_Someone cleared his throat behind him, and Lucas slowly turned his head to meet them. Fighting against the growing lump in his throat, he looked up at the nurse standing nearby. She was an older, plump woman, distinguished by a head of wispy gray hair and wire rimmed glasses perched on her nose, with a gentle, motherly smile that she graced him with now. _

"_Mr. Scott, you can see her now."_

_Her color wasn't good, he observed, as he stood silently in the doorway, watching the woman he had loved for so long, the woman who had carried his precious son. _

_Peyton lay peacefully sleeping his powerful stare, given something to calm her down by the doctor. She was beautiful when she slept. Lucas's breath caught painfully in his chest, a familiar wave of longing washing over him. He made it no secret to himself how much he wanted her- he never believed in self-denial- but it was still shaming to need her in such a way, especially at a time like this. They had shared so much together; it shouldn't have mattered for him to hesitate now. But he did._

_Uncertainty. It made him frozen now, made him hesitate in her doorway lost in his own thoughts. He hesitated, caught between fears and longing, need and anger. Part of him wanted to turn his back and walk away, leave it all behind, but he knew he could never part from her side. Another part just wanted to break down and scream his frustration, feeling so helpless in the tidal wave of change that had enveloped his world. Yet another part of him was so overcome with longing, thick and palpable, he hurt inside. So intense it ached, the urge to go to her bedside, pull her into his arms, and never let go for the world._

_He wearily raised his head, feeling suddenly exhausted, as a sudden rustling came from inside the hospital room. Peyton was stirring. _

_Indecision – Hesitation - Uncertainty. Lucas Scott didn't feel those often, and he was not about to start now._

_With a trembling breath that caused his body to shudder, he steeled himself, letting his expression fall into a mask of imperturbable calm. Unsure what awaiting him only a few steps away, his mind overwhelmed with affection and concern, Lucas hesitantly stepped forward, leaving uncertainty in his wake._

_The sound of his footsteps reached her ears and she stared up at him, her eyes blank and emotionless. The harshness in the gaze took him aback, even more so when her lips curled as he tried to hold her. _

_She slapped his hands away. _

"_This is your fault!"_

_Hurt and confusion flickered through his eyes and though he reached her again, she gave him a harsher shove this time. "__Get away from me. I don't want you anywhere near me!"_

_--_

_He stared, unseeing, at the pallid walls of the bathroom around him. He remembered vaguely how he had gotten here. He remembered locking himself away in a bathroom stall, collapsing onto the tilted floor, unable to hold any longer the strain of his own breaking heart._

_His body shook, trembled as he choked back another sob, squeezing his eyes shut against the threat of additional tears, his face wet from past offenders that stung against flushed, heated skin, the taste of them and the salt of his cold sweat bitter against his lips. It was far too much to handle, this uproarious tumult of anguish keeping such a tight grip around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter until he could scarcely breathe. He wanted to scream, he wanted to rage, he wanted some form of release from the torment, the god-awful torment of his emotions, but no matter where he tried to run, they always found him again, and to fight was useless._

_An image of her fragile, broken form lying in the bed, the blank, dead look in her eyes as she shut him out, shoved him away as he tried to reassure, pushed into his mind. His body shuddered, his legs weak and rubbery-feeling as he shakily lifted himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall as he unlatched the lock and almost fell on his face as he tumbled out. He landed heavily against the sink, grunting as his stomach harshly impacted with the porcelain and it was all he could do to stay upright._

_As he struggled for some semblance of balance, he caught a glance at himself in the mirror, and his attention was caught, unable to tear his gaze away from the mirrored image. He looked tired…he looked forsaken…he looked abandoned…_

_A shrill, strangled cry tore from his throat, and his fist came crashing into the glass, shattering, splintering his reflection into a million broken pieces…so now the reflection was the same as the original, broken. He shook and trembled violently, unable to hold it back. He stared into the broken mirror- stared into the shattered pieces of his life. He buried his face in his hands, "…it's broken…" he whispered hoarsely, "...and I can't fix it…"_

"It's broken, Mom, and I can't fix it."

"Shh, baby," she pressed her lips against his brow, "It's okay."

He closed his eyes, resting his head against her shoulder. "It was a rough week after that. Peyton practically shut down. It was rare for her to say a word…she barely got out of bed. It took care of her the best I could."

"I'm sure," she absently rubbed his arm, "And I know you two are trying so hard together."

He raised his head. "We're not together."

Her eyebrows raised incredulously, but she knew better than to broach the question now.

_He ascended the stairs toward the bedroom, dimly aware of the late hour, presented in the silence and darkness enveloping the house. Lucas's mind was centered on one thing, the feel of Peyton's limp and thin body in his arms, the remembrance of the flat emptiness of her stomach his hands passed over- the loss of slightest thickening around her waist that was the only sign they had had that their Will had been growing inside her. The memory of her tired and pained eyes as they stared back at him._

_The need to see her alive, whole, and recovering pulsed through him so intensely it blinded him to everything else around him, only the intensity of his focus making him capable of staying on his feet as he opened the door, stepping into the dimly lit bedroom._

_She was lying on the bed as he entered, soundlessly closing the door behind him. Body curled in a crescent-shape beneath the sheets, her golden curls fanned out against the cream-colored pillow; she seemed alright at first sight. As he stepped closer, he was able to make out the steady rise and fall of her chest, her skin pale but not the ghost-white that haunted his memory._

_She opened her eyes as he drew closer, her viridian eyes focusing on him as she smiled sadly. "Luke." And that was it, a simple smile, a whisper of his name, but it was enough to reassure. The harsh bite of relief swept over him, bombarding him, and guilty for his fears._

_But as he crawled into the bed beside her, and wrapped her in his embrace, felt her alive and breathing in his arms, he thanked the heavens above and whatever god would listen for that simple reassurance._

"That was the first time she had spoken to me in six days. I don't know if she blamed me anymore…but," he swallowed hard.

"It's my fault. It's my fault! I killed my baby!!"

He was practically screaming the last words and she was so scared for him. He was sobbing hard, his body shaking in her arms as he poured it all out. She pressed kisses to his hair, gently rubbing circles against his back. "No, no, sweetheart. You didn't. You need to believe that." She cupped his face, guiding him to look up at her. His eyes were startling in their stormy cobalt blue, heavy with pain and guilt.

She was crying herself now, tears quietly streaming down her cheeks. "This was no one's fault. These things happen. There're not fair, but it's a part of life we had to deal with. You loved your son. You lost him. But you have no fault in it." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "My beautiful, beautiful boy…you are growing into such a wonderful man. You are so full of love and I know you never meant to hurt anyone. You could never hurt your child. Never."

"Momma, it hurts." He buried his head against her, pressing as close to her as he could get.

She gently rocked him, her heart breaking at the childish vulnerability to his voice. He hadn't called her 'Momma' since he was seven. "I know, baby. I know."

--

"Brooke."

She immediately sneered at the sight of him, standing at her doorstep with his hands in his pockets. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't slam this door in your lying, cheating face."

He looked up at her with vulnerable eyes and she was taken aback at the sight of them red-rimmed and bloodshot. She instinctively knew he had been crying. He huffed out a harsh breath. "I'm sorry, Brooke. I know it doesn't mean much and I don't expect you to forgive me, but I do mean it. If you can just give me ten minutes…"

She hesitated and then sighed, moving out of the way. "You have five."

He nodded, hesitantly stepping inside her home. She shut the door and turned on her heel, facing him as she folded her arms across her breasts. "Alright. Talk."

He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and began to speak. "I-I don't quite know what I w-want to say exactly, but I want to try to make you understand. Peyton and I…we never meant to hurt you. Things just happened and we can't take them back, but we've lost so much, Brooke."

He looked back at her, startling her as she realized there were unshed tears glistening in his eyes. "I just…I want to ask you to ease up on Peyton. I'm in the wrong, Brooke, but she's been through so much. She doesn't deserve to have the blame put on her."

She stared at him, expressionless, before she spoke again. "You should go. Your five minutes are up."

He obeyed, and just before he stepped out, her voice stopped him in his place. "Lucas."

He looked back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"…I'll think about it…"

And with that, the door closed in his face.

--

A/N: So, one of my lovely readers PM'ed me with personal curiosity, but lo and behold, I accidently erased the message. I'm sorry, dear reader, but I forgot your name so I just thought I'd answer your questions here. I'm 21, I have six-month-old twins, a boy and girl, and I very much love being a father.


	11. Chapter 10: Only Fooling Myself

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Ten: Only Fooling Myself**

"Why haven't you been eating lately?"

The question caught him off-guard, causing Lucas to turn towards her with a quizzical expression. "What are you talking about? I eat plenty."

"I'm not talking about stolen snacks for the fridge at night. I'm talking about real meals."

She reached out to him, but he avoided her touch. "What does it matter to you, anyway?"

Her forehead creased with the severity of her frown, her expression stern and chastising. "It matters because I care, Luke. I know you haven't been eating lately, and I want to know why."

His stubborn pride deflated, and he suddenly felt so tired. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer against his side. She accepted the gesture, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Who told you?"

"Haley."

"Nosy little-"

"Lucas!"

He flushed self-consciously. "Sorry."

"She says you haven't eaten in a couple days. Why?"

He squirmed uncomfortably. "I just haven't had much of an appetite."

She nodded thoughtfully, resting her chin against the crook of his shoulder. She brushed a soft kiss against his neck. "Your mom's made breakfast. Come inside, for me?"

He sighed but gave her a reluctant nod. The familiar words of, "Anything for you," were whispered in ear, warming her heart. She rose to her feet, looking back at him expectantly. He followed her example, wrapping his fingers around her own as she slipped her hand in his, leading him back into the house.

Breakfast was quiet but she sat close to him, close enough for their legs to entwine. His arm was looped around the back of her chair, hers resting against his back, gently rubbing comforting circles between his shoulder-blades. Karen was seated on the opposite side of the table, watching them thoughtfully. She had made blueberry pancakes- one of his favorites- and though he stared dubiously at his plate at first, a nudge from Peyton and a look from his mother had him nibbling at his food. With time, his appetite seemed to return and Peyton felt him finally relax beneath her hand.

After they finished, Karen waved off their offers to help clean up and the younger pair retired to the back porch. They sat on the porch swing, Peyton sitting to the left, Lucas stretched out beside her with his head resting on her lap, his legs dangling over the armrest. His eyes were closed as he nestled against her, leaning into her touch as she stroked his hair.

It was far and in between nowadays to see him looking so peaceful and as reluctant as she was to disturb his rare tranquility, but she knew they couldn't put off what was needed for much longer.

"Luke, talk to me, honey."

He immediately tensed but with a long moment of pause, he relaxed with a sigh of submission, sitting up to face her with tired eyes. "A week, Peyton," he said suddenly, his voice low and deep with breaking restraint, "Just seven days you spent like a zombie after we lost our baby and then you just snapped out of it, expecting us both to just bury it and act like nothing happened."

"Luke…"

He shook his head, the intensity of his gaze fierce as his eyes bore into her. "Everyone else comes home and I stepped back into a role. All for you, because it's what you asked of me. And for months, all I did was playact." He took in a shuddering breath and the consequential darkening in the blue of his eyes let her know he was shifting from anger toward her to his personal guilt.

"All I did was hide. All that time I spent pretending, pushing the thought of Will and you and that summer into the back of my mind and smothered in my heart. God, Peyton…" he looked up at her with a weariness she knew all too well. "I wanted so badly to believe you were okay, that you had gotten over everything. But you were faking the whole time, weren't you? And I didn't let myself see it."

"Lucas." She wrapped her arms around him, Lucas leaning into the welcomed embrace as she rested her chin against his shoulder, angling her head to whisper to him. "You can't blame yourself for my hiding. I admit it…I spent all that time acting like I was better, but I hadn't grieved…I just buried it away…just like you said."

"But it's different now. I feel like…" she paused, searching for the right words, "I feel like I can think about him and feel more nostalgia than pain. It's more a wistful sadness. I'm always going to miss him, but I want to think he's in a better place." She smiled. "I bet the angels took him to my mom. And Ellie's probably with him now too. He's gotta be beautiful. Lots of curls, Scott blue eyes," she trailed a finger down the side of his face, "And his daddy's nose."

"I hope not," he mumbled against her, "Poor kid."

"It's cute," she kissed his temple. "You've been so strong for me, Luke. Let me strong for you now."

"I don't feel so strong."

"You don't have to be. Not right now."

When he began to cry, the tears were quiet and calm, no sobs racking his body but for the ragged sounds of his catching breath. She guided him back down, his head in her lap. With time, he grew languid and she knew he had fallen asleep. She pressed her lips to his forehead, brushing a hand once more through his hair."

"He looks so innocent that way, doesn't he?"

Peyton's head shot up, her eyes widening with surprise. "Haley."

"Hey. Can we talk?"

The other woman gave her a smile, taking a seat on the nearby porch step. "How are you doing? The both of you?"

Peyton shrugged, looking down at the man resting against her as she still absently stroked his hair. "As well as can be expected. I think I'm finally healing, but it's his turn now. I just have to get him to understand that."

Haley nodded with quiet understanding. "Peyton, I came here to apologize. I know that when this all first came out, I was way too judgmental. I am so sorry. You were going through so much and by being bitchy probably just made it worse."

"Hales, its okay-"

The redhead shook her head, cutting the other off. "No, it's not. I just want you to know how sorry I am."

Peyton sighed. "Thanks." Once again, she found her gaze straying back to Lucas, gently brushing her fingers against his cheek. "I know what you were focusing on was that Lucas and I slept together in the first place. And trust me that it's a big guilt thing for the both of us. But losing Will just kinda overshadowed that. I couldn't feel ashamed about finally having a family, no matter how it started."

"You're sorry, and I think that's all that matters now. I don't know if it means much now, but I think you would have made a wonderful mother. William would have been beautiful."

Peyton gave her a grateful look. "Thanks, Haley."

"It's a great name, by the way. It has Lucas written all over it though."

Peyton laughed. "Yeah. I couldn't talk him out of it. He gave me those puppy-dog eyes and I couldn't say no," she shook her head, playfully sighing, "Shakespeare and Faulkner better feel honored, wherever they are."

"That's Luke for you." Haley smiled softly, looking back down at the sleeping Lucas with a soft look in her eyes. "Take care of him," she quietly requested, knowingly echoing the words she had given Lucas a week before, even if Peyton didn't.

Peyton nodded and it was all the affirmation Haley needed as she turned away, leaving the complicated pair in peace.

--

She watched him that night as he lay beside her, his sleep quiet and calm, free from troubles with her sharing the bed. He was on his stomach, head resting against his arm like a pillow, mouth hanging open as he softly snored. She couldn't help but smile; she didn't touch him, merely taking comfort in his presence as she stretched out beside him, preparing for her own slumber. Unexpectedly but not unwanted, he shifted in his sleep onto his back, arms reaching out for her until he pulled her to him, cuddling her close.

She rested her head against his chest, contently focusing on the sound of his heart beating beneath muscle, flesh and bone- something that had quickly grown to be her favorite sound. Lucas drowsily nuzzled against her neck, murmuring a quiet, "Peyton," before falling into a light, wheezing snore once again. There was something there in his embrace, something she was intensely aware of but afraid to acknowledge aloud.

He had never said the words "I love you" to her, but he didn't need to. It was there in every soft word, every gentle touch, and every tender smile. It was there in his eyes, every single time he looked at her. He didn't have to say it to her.

She always knew.

--

Author's Notes: I hope this clears up why Lucas may have seemed slightly apathetic toward the baby in the early chapters and more concerned about Peyton. His façade didn't really start to crack until around Chapter 5.


	12. Chapter 11: Devil in Me

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Eleven: Devil in Me**

"_Maybe it could be Peyton."_

"_You don't know that."_

"_Well, it's someone…the library doors don't lock. It's not safe."_

"Maybe it could be Peyton."

Those words, his own or not, echoed forebodingly through his head. Just the thought of anyone harming his precious girl made his stomach churn

His heart pounded in his ears as he slid through the shattered glass doors, following the trail of blood splatters with the baseball bat held over his head, caution in his step. He looked down toward the bottom floor, finding nothing, taking in a deep breath as he made his way to the lower level, carefully searching behind each bookcase. A sound reached his ear and he went to investigate. As he held up the bat to defend himself, a low whimper of fear ripped through the air. If his heart had been racing overtime before, he swore it stopped completely in that moment.

"Peyton!"

He rushed to her side, her calls of pain and panic coursing into him like blades of glass breaking into his skin. He braced an arm against her back, attempting to place his hand on her leg, only to met by a sharp protest. "Ow, my leg, I got cut by some glass."

He looked down, his eyes finding the blood-stained stain against the denim of her jean. He looked back up at her as she tearfully whispered his name, "Luke…"

He swallowed hard. "I gotta get you somewhere safe."

He attempted to lift her to her feet, but she shook her head, still crying. "No, I can't walk. I tried."

"Okay…" his mind raced, leaping to his feet with the intent to get her help.

She protested, grabbing his arm, "No, don't leave me."

He held her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "I'm just gonna go block the entrance. We'll just hide out." He looked into her tear-filled eyes, so wide and scared and he kissed her forehead.

"Listen to me, I'm not going to leave you, baby."

He stroked her hair, resting his forehead against hers and through she still trembled with her cries, she nodded weakly against him.

He held her for a while and then bent down to examine her leg. He inwardly went cold, biting his lip hesitantly as he tried to keep his voice as comforting and calm as he could. "It's bleeding pretty badly. We're gonna to have to put some pressure on it."

She nodded, leaning her head back. "Luke?"

He looked up at her questioningly, his eyes widening as she revealed. "It was your friend. The one from the time capsule. He had the gun," he stared at her and she took in a deep breath, shaking her head with confusion, "But he didn't look evil or angry. He just looked scared." Her voice broke with the last part and he wrapped an arm around her, holding her as close as he could without jolting her injured leg.

Scared. That was the understatement of the year for what he was feeling right now.

--

"I'm tired, Luke," she was leaning against him wearily, "Are you tired?"

His heart leapt in his throat at the vulnerability she so blatantly display. His eyes wandered to the shirt he had wrapped tightly around her leg and then back up to met hers. "Yeah, but you gotta stay awake, alright?" He paused for a moment, thinking of something to keep her mind occupied. "Talk to me. Tell me about a good day."

Her lips curved up into a nostalgic smile. "Do you remember Will's first ultrasound?"

"Yeah," he leaned back, his head resting close to hers, "How could I forget?"

"I was so scared that day, but excited too. I remember sitting in the waiting room. I couldn't stay still," she gave him a playful glare, "And someone wouldn't stop jiggling their leg."

He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

She closed her eyes for a moment, a slow smile curving her mouth. "That gel was so cold. I swear, I think I jumped a foot. It didn't help that you laughed at me," she looked back at him, "Then you held my hand and there he was. This little black and white blob on the screen. This little person we made together. And then the sound of his heartbeat."

She searched for his hand. His palm enveloped hers, large and calloused but sheltering, their fingers entwining together much as they had that day. She blinked back tears, not from fear but memory. "You were so panicky, not letting the doctor get a word in edgewise because you were worried his heartbeat was too quick."

"How was I supposed to know it went that fast? It was racing."

She laughed softly and then sobered, her expression indecipherable as he tried to read her. "That's why yours is so important to me, you know."

"Why?"

"Because it means life. Since the night you told me about your HCM and how worried you were about passing it on to our baby, I've always had this fear in the back of my mind about losing you. Tenfold from the usual 'people always leave' adage. And hearing your heart beating…it lets me know you're still here."

Her eyes found his, soft and loving. "I am so glad you were with me, you know that? Then, and now."

"I know. Me too."

"…Luke…it's not glass in my leg, is it?"

His face fell, but he knew there was no use in lying. "No. It's a bullet." He took a deep breath, "Now I may have to get you out of here, okay? But nothing will happen to you. I promise."

Her heart swelled. Always her hero. "You're always saving me," she said in a raspy whisper, the words both awed but grateful.

He reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as he regarded her tenderly. "And I always will. As long as I have breath in me, sweetheart, I will always be here."

"If I said I love you right now, would you hold it against me?"

He smiled, the joy he felt lighting up his eyes and easing her insecurities and fears. The pain, her exhaustion seemed to disappear in that moment as he replied, "No. Not if you mean. Cause I love you too. So much."

"Come here."

He leaned down to her and she caught his lips in a kiss, firm but gentle. They parted and she curled up against him, safe as she had ever felt in his arms. He kissed her hair. "I think it's my turn for a good day."

"Mmm," she nuzzled against his neck, "Okay."

"Do you remember the night we made love?" she stiffened for a moment at the wording, but he kissed her softly, "Don't. You know that's what it was." He pecked her lips again and continued. "Neither of us could sleep after, so we drove to the beach. And I wanted to go swimming."

"I remember that. You just stripped off all your clothes and ran into the water."

He smiled. "It took me forever to get you to come out with me, but when you did, you were too stubborn to go nude."

"Mmph."

"I'll get you out of your clothes again one of these days, Sawyer," he gently teased.

"In your dreams, Scott," she mumbled against his shirt collar.

"If you only knew." He rested his chin atop her head. "I remember something else from that day," his voice was low and soft, a near whisper, as he tenderly stroked her hair, "There was this moment when I turned to look at you. You were just standing there, your eyes were closed, this soft smile on your lips. The sun was rising behind you and light was shining over you- all sorts of gold and red and orange. It made the water on your skin glisten like diamonds and with the way you'd just cut your hair, all those golden locks shined like a halo. You looked like an angel."

He pressed a kiss to her ear. "But they can't have you just yet, baby," He sighed into her hair. "I'm not ready to let you go."

His mind suddenly paused with thought…was he revealing too much….or maybe just enough…? Lucas wasn't really certain, but he knew he meant every word.

Amidst his musings, Peyton suddenly went limp in his embrace, and he knew what he had to do.

--

A/N: I'm sorry this is so short, I really am. But I spent forever watching 3x16, and I just don't have time for much more. But I thought it was a good place to stop, if only for literary effect.


	13. Chapter 12: One Way or Another

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Twelve: One Way or Another**

She was losing blood too fast, much quicker than he had anticipated. He had to get her out.

NOW!

"This school's on lockdown."

The words came from his old friend in a near-growl and all Lucas could do was stand there frozen. It was surreal. Jimmy- gentle, harmless Jim Edwards- was standing before him, anger in his eyes and a gun cocked and ready in hand. And then his wild eyes fell on Peyton and they softened, filling with despair and desperation. It was then that Lucas noticed how tired and red-rimmed they were.

"I didn't mean to hurt her," the boy whimpered, bringing up torn emotions in the other. Rage at the thought of it was the boy before him responsible for the dying state to his lover, warring with sympathy and desperation to appeal to the human left in Jimmy in order to save Peyton's life.

"I know," he replied hoarsely, keeping his voice as soothing as he could, "But, Jim, she's bleeding. I gotta get her out of here."

Lucas regarded him with fleet-eyed caution, watching Jimmy beginning to waver when a sudden slam came from behind him. It was eerily loud in the abandoned hallway and the blonde tensed, his arms tightening around Peyton as he turned on his heel. He had barely managed to face around when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye; Jimmy panicking at the sudden intrusion and responding by accidently setting off the gun.

Lucas ducked and covered, shielding Peyton with his body as much as he could, his escape slightly hindered by an excruciating burning at his side. Glass shattered behind them, the far-doors making the brunt impact of the bullet that had grazed against Lucas's ribcage.

He stumbled to the other side of the hallway, catching his weight against the wall. He shifted Peyton's fragile form to one side, setting his hand against the other, feeling something wet and sticky pooled around his hip. He dazedly looked up at the shooter, taking in Jimmy's pallid shaking, a choked sob rising in the throat, unable to tear his eyes away from the blood drenching Lucas's t-shirt.

"I'm sorry," were his last words, before he placed the gun against his temple.

A gunshot rang through the hallways of Tree Hill High School for the third time that day and Lucas fell to his knees, vaguely aware of his Uncle Keith's hurried voice at his side.

--

This had to be a nightmare. It had to be. He was dreaming. Any minute now, he would wake up in his own room, in his own bed, warm and comfortable wrapped up in his blankets. Peyton would be tucked up beside him, safe in his arms.

He awakened, trembling, broken out in a cold sweat, lost in the throes of his own mental chaos. The aftereffects of the nightmare still lingered…no manifestation of his troubled senses but rather a monstrous recollection destined to haunt him, mind and soul, twisting and clawing its way into the darkest reaches of his heart, his very perception of life around him.

He was awake. He had been in a nightmare. But the bad dream was nothing compared to the brutal reality he had abruptly regained consciousness into. Rapidly blinking his eyes, he was startled to see the blurry countenance of his best friend hovering above him. Brunette hair fell around them both as she cupped his face in her hands, anxiously studying him.

"Lucas? Are you okay?"

He shook his head fiercely, heaving a staggered sigh. "Let's see, Haley. My uncle was shot at, I took a bullet to my side and the woman I love is unconscious in a hospital bed because she nearly bled to death. Not to mention, the guy responsible for all of it blew his brains right in front of me. What do you think?"

She grimaced and drew back with the venom of his words. Lucas softened as regret for his harshness filled him and he reached out to grasp his sister-in-law's hands. "I'm sorry, Hales. I'm just…"

She smiled sadly, squeezing his hands. "I know."

He gripped her fingers, hoping desperately for something to hold on to. "I am so scared, Haley," he whispered, just audible enough for the two of them to hear, "I am so damn scared."

She sat down in the chair beside him, wrapped her arms around him and kissed his temple. He rested his head against hers, closing his eyes. He trembled, letting out breathy words into her ear. As if he meant to pray, more to himself than her or perhaps to someone of higher power than them both.

"Let her be okay. Please, God, let her be okay."

--

He kept a constant vigil at her bedside.

The last half-year had been crazy. Ten, nine, eight months ago, if you had told him anything that was to happen in the upcoming time, he would have laughed in your face. But sleeping with one of his best friends, an unexpected pregnancy, losing their baby, falling in love and nearly losing Peyton again in the aftermath…laughter was the farthest thing from his mind.

That night was something he could never erase from his memory. He had made love to Peyton Sawyer and though he wouldn't admit it to himself at the time, all he'd wanted afterward was to do it again. That, and give in the need to just hold her. They had taken things slow and sweet. There was no need to rush things. There was no need to be rough. There was no need to hesitate. They may have never touched each other so intimately before, but somehow, they still knew each other.

Brushing his fingers down her spine, along the small of her back, never failed to elicit pleasant shivers from her. A place at the hollow of his throat was one of his most sensitive spots- she'd loved to tease him there, earning the throaty noises he made when pleased.

There was a birthmark on the inside of her thigh, shaped strangely like a bird. It still inspired her dad to this day to still call her "Chicken" as he insisted it had looked as he held her after she was born. There was a scar on his right hip; he had made a risky jump on his bike when he was twelve to impress a girl- it hadn't gone so well. The next day, he told her, was the first time he saw _her_ and he knew it would take more than a few idiotic stunts to get her attention.

Those golden curls tickling against his nose, the subtle scent of vanilla filling his nose, the soft sound of her (gasps and moans and whimpers of pleasure) a sweet chorus to his ears. He could never forget; no matter how or long or what he tried.

It was three weeks before Peyton came to him, and they discovered they were having a baby. From that point on, they spent nearly every waking moment together, and the slumbering hours as well. He cooked for her, shared her bed, practically moved into her empty house- his toothbrush in the bathroom, his books on the shelf, and his clothes in her closet. Then…losing Will, and he came dangerously close to losing Peyton as well.

After her accusations and pushing him away the night of the miscarriage, she was silent and unresponsive from the moment he brought her home from the hospital. It was the same way for the next week- she was distant in her zombie-like state, or she was inconsolable in her tears. Lucas tended to her every basic need in the times she shut down on him' she was like a doll as he maneuvered her around- he bathed her, dressed her, and gently coaxed her to eat. Whenever she looked up at him with those dead, grieving eyes, his heart broke every time. He held her each night when she collapsed into hysterical sobs, pushing away his own pain to focus on her entirely.

He contacted the hospital, fought with administration about having their son's remains released to them. It wasn't common practice for a miscarried fetus to be shown to parents, especially those involved in a teenage pregnancy- they were young and impressionable after all (that definitely had Lucas yelling). It was even more unusual that they wished to a burial, but they won out at the end, and William Sawyer Scott was put to rest in the same plot as his Grandma Anna, his small headstone not far from hers.

Barely a full week passed and Peyton made an abrupt transformation. She seemed to snap right out of her profound grief, acting natural as if nothing had happened. Brooke returned, followed closely by Nathan, Haley and his mother, and he compliantly followed her lead. Today, he cursed himself for giving in so easy to Peyton's need to put her walls back up and live in denial, but at the same time, he was so afraid to grieve himself. He did the same thing- he ran, and he pretended.

"_Brooke's home…went to the airport this morning to pick up my mom and poof, there was Brooke."_

"_Poof?"_

"_Poof."_

"_What are you going to tell her?"_

"…_nothing…not if you don't want me to."_

"_I don't."_

"_Okay."_

He pushed the memories of Peyton and Will into the back of his mind. He focused on courting Brooke and dealing with basketball in the aftermath of his HCM. He and Peyton kept up the charade of a nonchalant camaraderie. They wouldn't discuss anything that had happened that summer, but they couldn't get rid of how close they had become. They did grow distant at times, but he always remained her fallback- he "loved being that guy for her".

He had been faithful to Brooke. He shared Peyton's bed only twice during their relationship before the time capsule, and he did so chastely. Once being a random time he had woken from a nightmare and needed the comfort of Peyton's presence, the other being the two-month-anniversary when he was intent on getting drunk, but received a call from Peyton instead.

The time capsule was released- their fragile little world of make-believe fell apart and everything went to hell from there.

They couldn't hide anymore.

And now, as he sat at her bedside, it had been a month since the truth had come out, four since Will's death. A few weeks since he and Peyton had come to their understanding that afternoon on his porch, a few weeks where they were open with each other, leaning on one another, helping each other to heal. He finally let himself talk to her and honestly, he had never felt so free.

Life's irony was profoundly cruel. Just when they were reconnecting…a school shooting, and now the love of his life was lying unconscious in a hospital bed. The bandaged bullet wound at his hip hurt like hell, Keith had damn near got himself killed in his good intentions and the memory of Jimmy's suicide was sure to haunt him until the day he died.

He sighed, painfully closing his eyes as he kissed her hand, gripping her cold fingers for dear life. "One way or another, baby, you have to wake up for me. I can't do this without you." He rested his head against their joined hands, "You can't leave me now, Peyton. Not after everything we've been through."

Trembling fingertips brushed the hair back from his brow. "I'm not going anywhere."


	14. Chapter 13: I Won't Disagree

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Thirteen: I Won't Disagree**

He sighed, painfully closing his eyes as he kissed her hand, gripping her cold fingers for dear life. "One way or another, baby, you have to wake up for me. I can't do this without you." He rested his head against their joined hands. "You can't leave me now, Peyton. Not after everything we've been through."

Trembling fingertips brushed the hair back from his brow. "I'm not going anywhere."

Lucas's head shot up, his eyes widening with incredulity as he took in the sight of her eyes staring back at him, their green hue hazy but aware. "Peyton?"

"Yeah." She gave him a soft smile, soothingly continuing to stroke his hair. "Luke, what happened?"

"You don't remember?" his brow furrowed as he forced himself to reminisce, "Back at the school?"

Her eyes widening and understanding visibly set in. He knew her questions before she asked them and he filled her in, Jimmy, Keith, how they got out of the school, her condition coming into the hospital. He attempted to gloss over the wound at his side, but she caught on quickly, pale with concern as she made him lift up his shirt.

Her gaze was so sad as she let her eyes, and then her fingers, lightly trail over the bandaged area. The bullet had grazed his side, below his ribcage and near his stomach, thankfully hitting no vital organ or artery. It hurt like hell, as he had refused pain medication in order to stay awake at Peyton's side, but it wouldn't be much trouble to him in favor of once more making Peyton his first priority. He reached down and grasped her fingers, "I'm okay, baby. You don't have to worry," he brought her hand to his lips. "What about you? How are you feeling?"

"Better that you're here." She squeezed his hand.

He nodded, giving her a loving smile. "Peyton, about the library…"

She paled slightly but swallowed back her fear. Things were supposed to change between them. "The things we said?"

"…yeah…" he leaned forward, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead, "You know how I feel about you?"

"Yes."

Vulnerability flashed through her eyes, but he didn't worry, knowing that know she would be open to him. He kissed her again, and she sighed softly. "Did you mean it? What you said?"

She nodded, his heart soared, and he did what he'd been denying himself for so long, leaning forward to press his lips to hers. Sweet and whisper-soft, he just barely brushed against her, but the warmth blossoming inside of them both was far from simple. They drew back, resting their foreheads together. "Wow…" he breathed.

"Yeah."

He couldn't help letting out a wide, goofy grin. "I forgot what a good kisser you are."

"Luke…" She said his name in a huff of sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, as she tilted her head and kissed him again in a way that both enflamed and soothed him. He returned her kiss, slowly, languorously, until her body sang with sensation and she melted into his arms. She sank into his embrace, resting her head in the crook of his neck. "Lucas?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we really do this? After everything that's happened, can we finally have this?"

He pulled away just enough to cup her face, tilting her head up to meet him. "After everything that's happened, I think we deserve to have this."

"You think so?"

He stroked her cheek, "Yeah, honey. I do."

She placed her hand over his, and gave him a small smile. He returned it, kissing her palm.

"I love you," he breathed, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right again.

--

_She slowly awoke to a pair of strong, male arms around her, the warm muscle of a chest pressed up against her back. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the still-dark atmosphere to the bedroom. She knew it should be Jake she expected to find beside her, that she should be confused in some way at the different embrace she found herself in. But she recognized the man beside her right away; she knew the scent of him, the warm, masculine spice brushing against her nostrils as he sleepily nuzzled her neck. _

_As if stirred by thought, he shifted behind her, pulling her close until there was no space left between them, just naked skin against naked skin. He threw a leg over hers, his hips and groin pressed to her behind. There was a deepness to the intimacy, a kind of closeness only transcended by the memory of what it felt to have him sheathed inside her, making their bodies one. _

_She flushed at the thought, fighting the urge to move way from him. The idea of staying in his embrace was too appealing to give into the fight or flight instinct- most often the latter for her. So she lay there for a while, focused on the soft reverberation of his heartbeat against her back, the sounds of his breathing along with the rise and fall of his breath. When those rhythms changed, she knew he had awoken, but like her, he just kept quiet and still. _

_She felt him sigh, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. "We don't have to talk about it, Peyton, but I don't want to have you pulling away from me either. Not after I just got you back."_

_She nodded turning to face him as she cuddled closer. The last thing she really wanted was to lose him. That was a pain not worth repeating, no matter what the circumstances. As she snuggled into him, she felt him stiffen for a moment and then completely relax. His eyes closed and it seemed as if something in him seemed to melt, the hardness of his defenses the past half-year had built up in him, gently breaking down. In all honesty, she had been feeling much the same thing, when they were together the night before. _

_Last night. Perhaps it was too early for reality to have completely set in, but in that moment, with the sight and memory of him so open and soft, she couldn't regret it. It was that surrender, that gentleness, that closeness, that had characterized everything they shared that night. She remembered the way they had held each other, pressed close to one another, refusing to separate. No matter how he touched her, Lucas hadn't once let her go, keeping her tightly in his arms, making her feel more pleasure, feel more safe, than she had ever felt before; until she wasn't sure where he began, and she ended. _

_"Hmm." He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. "Let's go somewhere," he said casually, as if him saying something so unexpected was an every-day occurrence. Not sure how to answer, she only nodded, and reluctantly left his embrace. With strange humility, they respectfully looked away as each of them dressed. Peyton grabbed her keys on their way out, and off they went. _

_They ended up at the same spot on the beach he had found her the night before. Sitting side-by-side without paying much mind to the wet sand, spontaneity seemed to stir the man next to her as he suddenly leapt to his feet, stripping off his clothes and running headlong into the ocean. She'd yelled out to him in incredulity, laughing as he howled about the sudden shock of the cold water, even as he coaxed her to join him. She eventually gave in, rolling her eyes as he tried to bait her into going naked- her bra and panties would have to suffice. _

He lay his head on the side of the bed, sighing contently as she slowly stroked his hair. "I almost lost you," he whispered hoarsely.

"But you didn't. It's thanks to you I'm still here."

He nuzzled against her side. "Cause I'm selfish. I need you. I couldn't imagine my life without you."

"You saved me, Lucas," she pressed a kiss to his temple, "I remember that morning at the beach, after the night we made love. I remember that sunrise. I remember looking at you too. The sun rising against your back, shining against your skin. You seemed so powerful in that moment, so strong, larger than life." She brushed another kiss against him. "You were my savior that day, baby, and you still are."

She rested her cheek against the top of his head. "Let me save you this time."

--

He had the chance to hold her for a while, before sudden realization that he needed to call the doctors caught his attention. He was kicked out of the room, watching from the outside corridor. As he was watching, a warm hand wrapped around his forearm, a familiar perfume letting him now who was behind him. He turned his head quizzically, "Brooke?"

Brown eyes went from him to the hospital room, and then back again. "Awake?"

"Yeah." Lucas folded his arms across his chest with a sigh. "I don't know anything yet. There'll still checking her out."

Brooke nodded. "What about you?"

Lucas shrugged, immediately regretting the gesture when the stretch in his muscles pulled at his stitches. She caught the glimpse of discomfort in his expression, giving him a dubious look, and he sighed. "I'll be fine. They've given me some painkillers, said I could get the stitches out in a couple weeks."

"Good," she turned back to watch the doctor and nurses moving around Peyton's room. The air between them fell heavy, and he knew on some level what was about to come.

"Did you ever really love me?"

The question caught him slightly off-guard, but he wasn't really surprised. He closed his eyes. "I do, Brooke. Just not the way I should."

She scoffed, looking away at the answer. "Then why pursue me like that? Why be with me if you didn't really want me?"

"Because you wanted me," he replied honestly, his voice weak but raw, "Before you left at the start of the summer…I was lonely. You'd been good to me for the past few weeks before that. I was losing people left and right. It was nice to know someone cared. I wanted to see if it could be something more."

Brooke narrowed her eyes at him. "When I came back, things were different. Those months changed everything for you. Why did you come after me?"

"…I knew…you played hard to get, but I saw through it. I knew you wanted to be with me. It felt good to be wanted." For the first time since their exchange had started, he dared to look at her. "Peyton…Peyton needed me, but she didn't want me."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Of course. In the end, it's all about what Peyton needs."

Already hanging on a short thread, it was the curtness of her tone that once more broke Lucas's fragile control on his temper. Rage washed over him. Not the hot poignancy like in the hallway at school, but a cold, icy wrath, freezing his veins and his heart until all he had left was his anger and his pain.

"You really don't get it, do you?! She's been hurting, Brooke, so damn bad! The baby, you, Ellie, Jake, she takes it all in and blames herself. All this time, she's been quietly destroying herself. Nobody noticed. What about you?! You're supposed to be her best friend. And you didn't see a thing!"

She opened her mouth to protest, but he waved a hand through the air, cutting her off. "Don't! Yes, we should have told you. Yes, we also hurt you, and I'm sorry. But the moment you found out, you took all that pain, all that guilt she's been carrying around and you threw it back at her."

He ran his hands through his hair, disheveling the thick mess he'd grown out in the last few months. Brooke realized faintly he had done so because she asked. It had just been a whim, she'd turned from the desire already, and she had been planning on telling him to cut it soon. How many things had she demanded of him that he gave to her without question? How long had she had this control of him out of his sense of obligation? He would do anything she asked, exempting anything that conflicted with his relationship to Peyton.

For Peyton…he would do everything and anything. And she never had to ask. He did so willingly, with love, tenderness and an eternal devotion.

He was breathing hard now, restlessly tangling his fingers through his hair as he stared at the ceiling. "Could you ever understand having the mother of your dead child tell you she hated you, that it's your fault that your baby was gone? Then take it back days later, literally making herself sick with the guilt as she falls apart in your arms, saying she's sorry for blaming you, that she hates herself, that she wished she had died instead of your baby boy." Tears were blurring his vision, running unchecked down his cheeks, and when he looked down to take in the shocked, pitying look on his ex-girlfriend's face, pain quickly turned to defensive anger.

"Don't look at me like that. I don't want your pity! Peyton doesn't deserve it either! You should be sorry, not feeling sorry for her!"

His scream echoed through the corridor, followed almost immediately by a harsh, crashing sound of a fist running into the wall. His knuckles collided with solid brick, joined in with a softer cracking of bone. The red of his blood smeared over the white painted over the stone, not once fazing the shaking, sobbing mess it had originated from. He finally looked back to the woman staring at him in horror, his eyes bloodshot and hard, his expression cold as he clenched his jaw. "You know what, forget it. All I care about is the girl in that hospital bed. Anything else…" his nostrils flared with temper, "I don't give a shit."

And after all the progress he had seemed to make, Lucas Scott once more retreated into the fortress that was himself, focused on one thing and one thing only.

Peyton.

Nothing else in the world mattered.


	15. Chapter 14: Deceptive Quiet

**--Lullaby--**

She was little more than a shadow of herself.

They had been doing so well. He had watched life return to his love. He had watched the color returning to her cheeks, her body regaining a healthy weight as they took their meals together. He saw her eyes brighten once more, watched her smile, and heard her laugh. Just as he himself was starting to feel revitalized, life decided to screw them over all over again.

For the first time in months, Lucas Scott had finally felt some semblance of peace. Now, however, he was quickly losing confidence in that deceptive serenity. Quickly losing faith in everything Peyton had been trying to teach him as of late. How to mourn. How to trust again. How to start letting go of the guilt. How to let out the anger. How to be her partner instead of her distant protector, if not her lover.

But now…now, how could he still believe in all that? He had only just let his guard down, and where had it gotten them?

"You could at least sit down, son. Karen will kill me if you pull those stitches again."

Lucas frowned, shifting his attention to where Larry Sawyer stood behind him, arms folded across his chest as his face held a parental appraisal of the young man before him. "I'm fine," seeing Larry's skeptical look; he amended his statement, "In a little while."

"Uh-huh. I know how teenagers are. You say one thing and do the exact opposite."

Lucas scowled, making sure he was turned away so the other man wouldn't see the severity of his displeasure. "No offense, Mr. Sawyer, but you really don't know me."

Larry's mouth tightened, but he couldn't refute the accusation. "I suppose you're right. But if you won't listen to me, or even your mother's instructions, do something for my daughter's sake. Take it easy. You're no good to her if you exhaust yourself, Lucas. She's not going to disappear the moment you take your eyes off her."

The seaman's eyes strayed to what had been the focus of the young man's attention for the past three days since her return from the hospital, the limp form of his daughter fast asleep in her bed. Both men were currently standing in the doorway, close enough to watch over her but not disturb.

"It doesn't feel that way," Lucas murmured, so low Larry could barely make out the words. Then again, he was half-sure the boy was talking more to himself than the other. As he pondered this, the teenager shifted restlessly on his feet, changing the subject. "She didn't sleep much last night, did she?"

"No. But I'm guessing you didn't either," Larry replied, regarding the dark circles beneath the blonde boy's eyes. Worried as she was for her son, the only thing keeping Karen Roe from keeping him under lock and key was his need to see Peyton. She allowed the boy to spend his days with her at the Sawyer household, but her stipulations were that one, Lucas wasn't to strain himself, and two, he had to come home at night.

The first was broken the first day when he insisted in carrying Peyton inside when she was finally released from the hospital, Lucas ignoring the bleeding at his side until his lover was sleeping, catching Larry's attention to the fact that he had torn open his stitches. It didn't help either that the kid's right hand was in a splint. The second rule seemed to be a change the couple wasn't taking well (Karen had informed him that not only were their kids sharing a bed, they hadn't spent a night apart in weeks) and sleeping alone didn't make either very happy.

When Lucas didn't answer, he sighed. "I heard her cry out a few times from the pain. Every time I went in there, she just pretended to be asleep and refused to answer me."

"She's still not taking the painkillers?" at Larry's nod, Lucas gritted his teeth. "Dammit, Peyton," he cursed under his breath, casting an exasperated look in her direction. As much as he loved her, the girl could be stubborn as hell sometimes. "She hates drugs," he continued to her father, "It was the same thing after the miscarriage. I couldn't get her to take anything the doctor gave us."

Larry regarded him solemnly. The loss of the two teenagers' baby was a sore topic, and not one either would open up about it often. Larry himself knew little about the aftermath. "What were they?"

"Something mild for the pain, another for the bleeding." He winced at Larry's worried frown. "I guess she was sore….after, y'know. The doc said she would be, but Peyton never said anything. And she spotted blood for a few days. She was still healing…down there," he gestured below his waistline in emphasis, "Brenner," Larry abruptly recognized the name of his family physician, "wanted her to go on an antidepressant too." Both men fell silent and Lucas groaned, running a hand agitatedly through his hair. "The moment I brought them to her, she emptied the whole bottle down the drain."

A silence lapsed between them, Larry not knowing what to say, and Lucas having nothing further to talk about. Watching the young man watching his daughter intently, Larry shifted, the movement acknowledged only by a flicker of Lucas's eyes in his direction. Larry sighed, finally conceding to a decision that had been prickling at the back of his mind all afternoon. "I'll call your mom, ask if you can spend the night."

All he received in reply was a grateful nod and there was no further conversation as he made his way down the hallway, Lucas disappearing into Peyton's room. He approached the bed cautiously, once more feeling inwardly ill by how pale and delicate a demeanor the girl he loved was reduced to. As if on cue, the moment he stepped through the door a low whimper escaped from her, accompanied by tossing and turning. Her low sounds of discontent quickly grew to sobs of pain as she jostled her injured leg. By the time, he sat on the edge of the bed, she was openly crying.

He stretched out beside her, carefully wrapping his arms around her. Peyton immediately responded to the embrace, instinctually seeking him out as she nestled closer to him. She buried her face in his chest, tears dampening the fabric of his t-shirt as she softly whimpered his name, "Luke."

"Shh," Lucas held her close, soothingly rubbing her back with his good hand. "I'm here, honey. You're okay."

She cried out again, clutching at him as her body shook. "Lucas, it hurts."

"I know," he whispered gently, brushing a kiss against her damp forehead as he reached for her bedside drawer, fingers fumbling for a familiar bottle. The moment Peyton heard a distinctive clinking of pills, she drew back from him, staring both at him and the medicine accusingly. "You know I don't want that," she huffed at him.

"I know you don't," he answered, his voice both weary and clipped in a way that startled her, and this time as she glanced at him, it felt like looking at him with new eyes. "But you can't keep doing this. You can't heal if you're in constant stress. I know you don't like it, but do this for me. I hate seeing you like this."

She still eyed the prescription bottle dubiously. "Just half."

Lucas sighed with relief. "Just half," he agreed. He reluctantly retracted himself from her to get to his feet. "I'm going to get you some water. Do you want anything else?"

Peyton nestled back under the blankets, peeking up at him from beneath her self-induced cocoon. "Something hot."

"Tea?" He didn't really want to leave her long enough to make cocoa (he'd grown up with a mother who refused any kind of powder mix, after all) and coffee was a definite no. Caffeine was something the doctors discouraged for both of them in their current situation.

"Sure."

Peyton stared at his retreating back, frowning at the slight limp to his walk caused by the pull of the stitches at his side. But she knew better to comment. Lucas didn't respond kindly to her expressing any kind of worry over his injuries. They'd have to address the issue sooner or later, but they (Lucas, especially) were in such a delicate place that it could wait for now.

Making his way downstairs, Lucas was only mildly surprised when he encountered Larry Sawyer in the kitchen, sitting at the table with paperwork spread out before him. He made his way to the cupboards. "What's that?"

The older man looked up, watching him bring a glass to the sink. "Hospital bills."

He noticed the worried, if fleeting, glance Lucas sent in his direction. "We're not in any kind of trouble. It's just some stuff for the insurance company."

Lucas nodded, continuing his cabinet rummaging. "Hey, do you have any tea besides the green? Preferably something decaf."

"There's some peppermint in the back." Larry regarded him curiously. "She awake?"

"Hmm-mm," Lucas gave him a slight smile, "I got her to compromise. Half a pain pill to keep our sanity."

"Finally," Larry groaned with relief, watching as Lucas set up the kettle and then made his way to the refrigerator. He had to admit the boy was doing rather well for only one capable hand. "What are you doing now?"

"Sandwich. She's not going to be very hungry, but she should have something in her stomach with that pill."

"Why don't I take care of that?" He received a quizzical look in reply. "I'll bring up the food and the tea. You just get back to Peyton."

"Okay," Lucas straightened up, stretching out sore muscles, "Thanks."

"No problem."

Larry nodded, his eyes lingering on the other's form before he disappeared once more up the stairs, leaving the seaman with only his own company and silence. He sighed, turning back to the task at hand.

He couldn't help but feel pangs of guilt every time he was in the company of either Lucas Scott or his daughter. And he knew the flicker of accusation in the boy's eyes each time he looked at him was well-deserved.

He loved Peyton with everything he was, he really did, but he'd never been particularly good in the area of being a single father to a girl. Especially a teenage girl. It had been sometime in the middle of the previous August when he had come home to face his daughter for the first time in months. Things were strained enough between them with the sudden emergence of Ellie Harp with the revelation of Peyton's adoption, but the combination of her reaction to his giving the full story and the news of a teenage pregnancy, the damage the following argument made their relationship almost irreparable. That, combined with the fact that she outright demanded he stay away when she called to tell him she had lost the baby had been devastating.

He'd only been a few days when Peyton suddenly miscarried. He had come home again, after giving her a couple weeks space, to handle the Ellie situation, and they'd never spoken of it again. Not until now.

Unknown to him, upstairs, the other man in his daughter's life was currently having much the same trail of thought. With Peyton curled up in his arms, he stroked her hair, lying silent and deep in thought.

Lucas knew, that in the back of his mind, he would always end up laying some blame on Larry Sawyer for the death of his son. The man's outright rejection and disapproval when he found out had nearly broken an already delicate Peyton. Her father's reaction had only fueled the insecurities that naturally lurked beneath the surface in her mind, and it had sparked something unpleasant between her and her baby's father. She had been suddenly afraid, uncertain and scared of how everyone else would react when the summer ended, and everyone suddenly knew of both their miracle and their sin.

She was sure she would lose everyone, Brooke most of all, that his mother or Haley or even Nathan would hate her for ruining his future…on and on, while his reassurances amounted to nothing and he finally snapped. They had somehow ended up on the topic of them, together as a couple and as parents, and it frustrated him to no end that Peyton wouldn't even entertain the idea of being with him. She was certain their having a baby would be enough of a blow, being involved romantically would be too much.

All he could remember after that was the outpouring of his frustration, his fear, his anger and all the desperation of loving her. Seeing red, their screaming at each other, Peyton storming off and her cries of his help. Blood, hospitals and death.

Rejection, insecurity, guilt, misplaced anger, and it was everyone's sin but his own that killed William Scott.

Lucas shuddered, clinging closer to Peyton. He also knew that fateful fight played a big role in Peyton being so hesitant to the idea of them. And his guilt over the situation made him reluctant to pursue her. It didn't exactly make a solid foundation for a relationship.

He felt her fingers curl around his injured hand and felt another spike of pain, both physical and emotional. The aftermath of his outburst at the hospital four days ago had not been pretty. He had scared everyone, only allowing his mother and Keith to have contact with him. He was kicked out of Peyton's wing, his hand was treated and his parents took him home. He wasn't allowed back to see Peyton until she was released the next evening and the hours apart had nearly driven him insane.

He was falling apart and he knew it. He just didn't want to acknowledge it. Or admit that he didn't know how to stop it.

He barely noticed when Larry returned with a cup of tea and a ham sandwich for Peyton, of which she ate half, drank enough to warm her up, and then reluctantly took the pain pill. As expected, the medication made her drowsy, and she fell asleep once more. This time, Lucas was allowed to stay with her, and when Larry made himself scarce, the teen wrapped himself around her, rested his chin against the top of her head, and blinked away his tears.

Sleep didn't come easy that night, but it did come eventually for the first time in nearly a week. And that


	16. Chapter 15: Breaking

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Fifteen: Breaking**

Coming back to school the week after the shooting was necessary, but with every second that passed after they walked through the front entrance felt like a monumental mistake. They passed through the new security measures without incident, but it was Lucas that had most of her attention.

Lucas had always been attentive to and protective of her, but she wasn't sure what to do with this. In her mind, there had been times when she found herself comparing Lucas Scott, at times to something resembling a kind of big cat. Perhaps a lion, golden, strong and proud, or a jaguar, sleek, quick and clever. Now…it was a mighty, dominating wildcat.

The way he moved down the hall reminded her of such, an animal on the prowl. He was tense and alert at her side, evident in every part of him, every tense and taut pull of his muscles and every clench of his jaw. Eyes dark and daring to every gaze they met, predatory was the word that came to mind. She was certain he would start growling at any moment.

He was carrying her bag, walking a half-a-step in front of her- a protective stance. When he stopped, she grabbed at his shoulders to steady herself. Looking over him to see what had caught his attention, it was all she could do not to groan with dread at the sight of a memorial set out before Jimmy Edwards' old locker.

Glancing down at his balled-up fists, Peyton adjusted her precarious balance, reaching down to cup her hand over Lucas's injured one, gently easing the grip of the braced fingers. Quickly studying them, she sighed with relief to see he hadn't done any damage. She brushed her thumb against his wrist, as much as she could touch him without falling over. "Luke, let's just go to class."

"In a minute," was the reply, a brush-off as he moved away from her, leaving her to lean against the lockers and watch him with resignation. She squeezed her eyes shut as he kicked away the candles and other memorabilia, letting her head fall back as she fought back tears.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist, a familiar touch and scent she leaned into gratefully. She felt another presence nearby. She looked up with bleary eyes at her ex-boyfriend, receiving a reassuring smile from his wife in return.

"Come on, Sawyer," Nathan said gently, nodding to Haley to take Peyton's bag, "Let me walk you to Calc."

----

There wasn't hide or hair to be seen of Lucas for the rest of the morning, missing the first four classes of the day. As the bell signaled the end of her math class, Peyton cast a look at the empty desk beside her. She huffed out a frustrated sigh as she gathered her things and hobbled her way out of the classroom. As she went, her irritation still very much evident in the scowl she wore.

As if Lucas's disappearance wasn't bad enough, she suddenly found herself the center of attention; between her involvement with Lucas, her role in the shooting and the disastrous aftermath of her time capsule confession, she was a star attraction. It wasn't any surprise for her to seek refuge come lunchtime, breathing a sigh of both frustration and relief at the sound of the bell finally ringing. Levering herself up onto her crutches, she hobbled her way out of the classroom and down the hallway, ignoring the stares and whispers left in her wake.

Choosing the library as her sanctuary had seemed both the most logical and the most unlikely thing to do. All in all, somewhere no one would come looking for her. Somewhere she would be left alone; exactly what she was looking for. She collapsed into a table in the very back, reveling in the delicate silence around her after her chaotic morning.

Her eyes wandered traitorously, drawn toward the faint bloodstains on nearby carpet. She shook her head furiously, quickly moving her gaze away just in time to see a familiar figure turn the corner among the shelves, a book in hand as he browsed through others. A small sound left her and caught his attention. Lucas's head rose from his book and finding himself caught, looked at her sheepishly.

Their eyes met, hers widening at the sight of him as he silently made his way to her. The copy of Othello he'd been holding met the floor with a muffled thud as Lucas fell to his knees before her, wrapping his arms around her mid-drift. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She closed her eyes and sighed, cradling his head against her, stroking his hair back from his brow. "What for, Lucas?"

"For not being here. I shouldn't have left you again."

Peyton shook her head, resting her hand at the nape of his neck, soothingly grazing her nails against the skin. Lucas shivered with a sudden sensuality of the touch, his head further pillowed against the softness of her breast. "Luke, no…you can't keep doing this. You can't be with me every minute of every day."

His expression twisted into a scowl, his displeasure at her words almost tangible as he looked up to meet her eyes. "That's not fair, Peyton."

"It's perfectly fair," she countered, firmly tapping the back of his head. "You do this again and again, Lucas. You need to stop."

He grunted low in his throat, tearing himself away from her enough to stomp off a few steps, shuffling around a nearby bookshelf. She watched as his nostrils flared with his temper, fingers scrubbing irritably through his hair. Peyton sighed, straightening out her crutches, struggling to her feet as she hobbled the few paces it took to get to him.

"Are you going to throw a tantrum, now?"

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. By the way everyone had been walking on eggshells around him since the hospital, she had thought that perhaps refusing to coddle him or indulge his mood swings would help snap him out of it. But she had underestimated that his restraint would be merely hanging by a thread.

The culmination came as he marched forward determinedly, grabbed her by her forearms, and crushed his mouth over hers.

His kisses were fast and hard, leaving her breathless and dizzy. She could have stopped him at any time she wanted, but something froze her, unresponsive but unresisting in his forceful embrace. He shoved her back against a wall, giving her minimal time to react before he was pushing against her, trying to get as close as possible with little thought to her own comfort. He ravaged her mouth, burying a hand in her hair to better angle her head, moving frantically against her in a way that both startled and concerned her. It wasn't passion driving Lucas to practically ravish her where she stood; it was pure, unadulterated desperation.

He growled, a low, guttural sound, as he nipped none too gently at her neck, and she sought to soothe him. They had spent so much time in the past avoiding intimate contract, but with weeks of being awoken by his dreams and comforting him back into a needed sleep, she put her learned knowledge of how just to touch him to good use.

She gently stroked his shoulders, peppering soft kisses against his jaw and the rough growling changed into a soft keening sound as she felt the tension ease in the muscles beneath his fingers. He melted into her- it was the only way to describe the trusting way he fell into her- burying his face in the crook of her neck and breathing out with harsh, panting breaths.

"Peyt…I don't know what to do…"

He released a broken sound, somewhere between a moan and a sob, swiping at a face uncomfortably wet with tears he had been bitterly shedding, desperately turning toward her for some kind of retribution. She raised her hand to his cheek, leaning in to brush her lips against his with soft-spoken reassurance. His eyes closed and his wearied features slowly relaxed as he leaned into her touch. He pressed a kiss to her palm and murmured her name in a muffled whisper.

He was only a man. Only a boy. She wondered if there would ever be a way to show him how human he really was.

----

They were both awoken by his nightmare that night. She rolled over to sit beside his trembling, sweating form. She didn't hesitate to reach out and rest a hand against his, slowly sliding the hand up his wrist and arm, over his shoulder and down to his chest, laying her palm flat over his heart. The gesture seemed to awaken something in him, as it always did for them both, and his startled eyes, suddenly aware, snapped straight to hers.

She wrapped her arms around him, whispering soothingly, petting his hair. Strong, capable arms were there to hold her in return as he calmed, cradling her against the reassuring solidarity of his body. With a sigh, she laid her head against his chest, focusing on the pace of his heart, satisfied to hear it slowing down as its owner relaxed.

"Peyton…"

Startled by the sound of his voice (he rarely liked to talk after one of his dreams; stubborn male through and through), she glanced up at him. He smiled wryly, lightly tracing a finger along the curve of her cheek. "I love you."

The words were an echo, something he hadn't said to her since that day in the hospital. Whether intentional or not, they still startled her, even more so when he leaned even closer to her, drawing her closer to him, leaning his head against hers. Their eyes met and locked, holding them in the moment.

They were standing at a crossroads and in the end, it was Lucas that made the decision for them, leaning forward to press his lips to hers. His lips were dry and hot, a bit chapped, and he was clumsy and overly eager in his initial passion. She pressed a hand against his chest in a gesture for him to ease off and he got the message, his mouth softening against hers, hand rising to her face to gently stroke her cheek.

When they parted, she rested her forehead against his, inwardly awed by the soft, relaxed expression that had fallen over his face. His eyes had fluttered closed and he sported a small smile; she kissed the contented curve to his lips, sighed his name softly, "Luke."

His hand reached out to grasp hers, their fingers intertwining. They fell quiet, and for a long while, all there was were the dual sounds of their breathing, eventually easing into the slow, deep patterns of slumber.


	17. Chapter 16: Overload

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

A/N: I need your help, guys. The Peyton/Brooke confrontation is coming up, but I have no idea what to do with it. Girl talk…I can try…guy and guy, okay, guy and girl, just the thing…girl/girl fight…I'm out of my league. Help!!!!!! Somebody want to write it for me, or at least give me an outline of what I should be writing?

**Chapter Sixteen: Overload**

The first thing Peyton awoke to the next morning was the sound of arguing voices. She breathed in deeply, rubbing at her bleary eyes in an effort to focus her sight. Which proved to be rather unexpected; she was faced with Lucas's back, shoulders squared back, arms folded across his chest as he was poised with a defiant tension. Nathan and Haley were standing before him, both looking more than a little startled by whatever was going down between them.

She threw back the blankets, too distracted to be self-conscious about her sleepwear- boxers and t-shirt belonging to Lucas, both far too big for her. She slowly approached, tentatively resting a hand at Lucas's waist. "Luke?" He turned to look at her and Peyton was taken aback.

She'd always known Lucas to be passion and intensity, the embodiment of a living flame. An inferno kindled just below the surface of his skin, mirrored in those haunting eyes. He did the same thing now as he always did. He set her very senses on fire when his eyes found her, dousing her in a liquid flame from the inside out. Those eyes smoldered as he looked at her and she was taken aback by the intensity (hunger, desire, and rage) and the sheer force of him. As she hadn't been expecting it, it threw her off balance in a way she doesn't quite like.

Blazing blue flame stared back at her and it frightened her more than she could ever admit. She knew it was more than his temper he was directing, it was all his focus- compounded into a slow, agonizing torture- directed toward her in love and lust and protectiveness. Something harsh and demanding was reflecting there, and still, she refused to run away from him.

"Luke," she repeated with her tone soft and non-threatening. She gently caressed him when her fingers met bare skin, stroking him from hip to the small of his back, and back again. "Luke," she said again, and kissed his shoulder for good measure.

Lucas looked at her for another long moment, and then he heaved out a heavy sigh. The anger in his eyes began to fade; that overwhelming inferno cooled down to a soft, blue-gray ash. He huffed out a fervent breath once again and leaned down to press his lips to hers. She forgot about their company, seeking only to soothe him as she placed her hand against the back of his neck, returning his gentle kiss. They parted and he held her close; Peyton wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering reassurances into his ear.

Her eyes met those of Haley and Nathan over his shoulder as she stroked his hair, trying to convey her message. Haley slipped her hand into Nathan's and the younger Scott wrapped an arm around his wife's waist, nodding their mutual understanding. Lucas and Peyton's intimacy, even in front of them, was not up for question.

Lucas kissed her neck, pulling back enough to look at her. He tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling softly. "We didn't wake you up, did we?"

"Hmm. Don't worry about it." She moved her arms down to encircle his midriff, resting her head against his shoulder as they faced the other Scotts. "What's going on?"

Lucas stiffened beside her, but his temper didn't seem to blaze up again, much to Peyton's relief. "Nathan and Haley came by to check up on us."

Peyton gave Naley a quizzical look, catching the undertones to Lucas's voice and guessing there had been more to the conversation. "Yeah?"

Haley hesitantly nodded, her fingers entwining with her husband's as her grip on him tightened. "I was just telling Luke how worried about him we are. We haven't been able to talk to you guys since what happened at the hospital, then there's what happened at school…"

Lucas's jaw clenched. "I appreciate your concern, but it's none of your business."

Nathan shuffled nervously, but from the determined look on his face, Peyton could tell he wasn't about to back down. "Look, man, she's got a point. You've been out of control lately, bro."

"Lucas, I understand that you're angry," Haley added on, "But-"

Peyton winced. First mistake- calling Lucas out on his behavior. Second mistake- trying to tell him you "understand".

Lucas cut her off, breaking away from Peyton with a sardonic laugh. "You understand? You have got to be fucking kidding me, Haley. You think it was bad being in that damn tutor center, having that gun on you. Yeah, scary as hell. That I get. But you were together! You knew each other were okay, while meanwhile, Peyton was lying there, dying in my arm!" He pointed his finger furiously at them. "You got out. I was left with the whole bloody mess. Were you there when Peyton passed out from the blood loss? Were you there when Edwards blew his brains out in front of me? Don't tell me you fucking understand!"

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving the other three in an awkward silence. When Haley seemed to come back to herself and made to follow her best friend, Peyton held up her hand to stop her. "Let him go, Hales. He needs to cool down."

Nathan swallowed, looking lost for words. "Peyton…what…"

The blonde groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Sit down, guys. It's a long story."

----

"Don't you think you've had enough, buddy?"

Lucas looked up through hazy eyes, alcohol hot already in his blood as he gave the man in front of him a dirty glare. "Who's the one paying here? Gimme another!"

The bartender snorted as he eyed the younger man when Lucas took a generous swallow of his glass, finishing off the drink. He gave him, crossing across the bar in long-legged strides to pour a shot. The crystalloid twang of the container hitting the table echoed slightly as he set it down. Lucas tossed back the alcohol; flaming down his throat, fire in his belly.

This continued on, his attention solely on his misery until a difference in the background reached his ears. The featured band had started playing for that night and Lucas curiously, and a little clumsily, turned around on his stool.

The leader singer was a girl in her mid-twenties, slender and petite, long brown hair falling around her face as she bobbed her head. The voice was beautiful, not overwhelming but sweetly melodious. Lucas was transfixed, strangely calmed as the music continued. He sat back, not having eyes but anything but the mysterious girl as she seemed to light up on that stage. Listening to her sing, he became increasing, irritably aware of jeering calls from the wasted group of men in the back. He ignored the handful of childish insults, even a few catcalls, but when the hits got dirty, his temper got the better of him.

And from that point, as he grabbed the worst offender by the collar and pulled back his fist, Lucas Scott saw nothing but red.

----

"What the hell happened?"

Lucas blanched at the volume belonging to Peyton's explosion of temper as it reached his sensitive ears, not the best thing for the titanic of a headache he had after having his skull slammed with a barstool.

"A little rough-n'-tumble. Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about? Lucas, you look like hell."

"Thanks," he replied flatly, "I'm ever so flattered."

He was really starting to regret not calling Nathan, or even Keith. He'd risk Scott wrath, if it meant postponing _this_ drama. Deciding enough was enough, Peyton abruptly shifted the car's gear, pulling over. She turned in her seat to face him. "What's going on?"

"What's the big deal?"

"The big deal? Luke, this isn't like you."

"You think you know me inside and out?"

"Stop bullshitting. You and I both know we connect deeper than that."

Lucas didn't reply, turning his head to stare stubbornly out the window.

She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "Tell me."

"I don't have to tell you everything that's on my mind."

She ignored him once again. "Is this what happened in the library? Or is it something else?"

He gave her a sardonic look. "Are you my shrink now?"

"…is it…?" her eyes widened with sudden realization, "…Jimmy…?"

"No!" and he whirled on her, grabbing her hands and forcing them away from him, his eyes hard as he stared her down, "No, don't you talk to me about that son of a bitch. I don't want to hear it."

"He was your friend."

"Apparently to the whole school as well. They didn't give a shit about him when he was alive, but the moment he blew his brains out, he's front-page news. What about you? Did it warm your heart with caring when he was shooting at you?"

"Stop it," she furiously blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes, determined not to let him see her cry.

"What, you'll do what? Lecture me some more about my bad behavior? Don't even try."

She reached out, tentatively laying her hand against his cheek. "Baby, talk to me."

He leaned into the touch, momentarily letting down his defenses before he suddenly came back to himself, shoving the hand away. "There's nothing to talk about."

She snapped, frustrated beyond belief. "Dammit, Luke!"

"Since when do you swear?"

"If you would stop acting like such a spoiled little brat for one minute-"

"You know what, forget this! I'll walk back." With that, he jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind him, ignoring the sounds of her calling his name.


	18. Chapter 17: Lover

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

A/N: Just for clarification, the dialogue written in italics is Peyton's conversation with Nathan and Haley the day before, after Lucas stormed out of his room.

**Chapter Seventeen: Lover**

"_Lucas changed a little last year. We argued a lot over the summer; I had time to get to know his temper. He's usually so controlled, we all know that, but it's different sometimes. I still can't tell if it just stews for a while or if he just blows up all at once. He goes through this pattern."_

"_He won't want to listen to reason. Calling him out on it will only frustrate him more. Trying to identify him will only make him defensive. He'll go out, blow off some steam, and then…"_

"…_he comes home and he's done a complete 360. He'll be ashamed and apologetic. So much so that it's pointless to stay angry with him for his getting angry. Because you know you'll just be adding to his guilt."_

"I'm sorry," he whispered, finally stumbling through the door at ten that night, wet from the rain, and likely from his own falling tears.

He was pale, every fiber of him radiating pain and contrition. She stripped him of his damp clothes, drew him down to join her on the bed, wrapping him tight in the warmer sheets. Her arms around him, soft kisses pressed to his ear, she cradled him close. She kissed his shoulder, stroking his hair. He tilted his head up to look at her, and something unreadable passed through his eyes.

"Peyton…" he trailed off, his gaze falling downward to focus on her mouth. Peyton's hand rested against the back of his neck, gently encouraging him closer. She reached a hand to touch his cheek, her thumb stroking the weathered skin as their lips met softly, coming together. For a split second, Lucas hesitated, and then he was returning the kiss, his lips moving slowly beneath his girlfriend's.

His beard stubble scratched against her skin, his lips cold and chapped, but Peyton delighted in the warmth of him, in the feel of the hard flesh beneath her fingertips as she grasped first at his shoulders and then moved her hands, sliding them down his back. His tongue met hers, and she lost all ability to think at all.

"_It usually doesn't last long, but this one's gone on way too long. I don't know what it's going to take to fix it this time."_

They were idly lying on his bed, Lucas's arm draped around her stomach as Peyton rested her head on his chest, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns against his naked skin. He deeply inhaled at the contact, the muscles of his bare chest contracting and then relaxing beneath her touch.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she murmured softly, slowly running her fingers up his arms. The fine hair dotting his forearms was soft beneath his fingers, smoothing out when she traced over the definitions of his bicep. The contrasts of his body had always fascinated her; so blatantly, powerfully male, but capable of being so gentle with her. She gently pressed a kiss to his shoulder, waiting for his answer.

He blinked sleepily, "Mmm, I don't know if they're worth that much."

She tilted her head up to look at him. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

He swallowed against the harsh lump rising in his throat. She noticed his hesitation and propped herself up on an elbow to see him more clearly. "What is it, Luke?"

"Peyton…" he sharply inhaled, exhaling again in a harsh rush of air. "I don't want to lose you."

She gave him a soft smile, reaching over to stroke his face. "You won't. Not if you don't walk away."

He winced as he was inadvertently reminded of their messy past. "…I'm more afraid of you leaving me…"

"_Luke internalizes things. And he tends to take the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's not a good combination for what's been going on the last few months."_

For a long moment, Peyton didn't speak, and the more the silence extended between them, the more Lucas's stomach dropped with continued insecurities. And then she was wrapping her arms around his neck, guiding him to lay with her, Peyton sinking back onto the mattress as she pulled him atop of her. She ran one hand through his hair, keeping the other around his neck to tenderly stroke the dip between his shoulder-blades. "Never happen."

With a deep sigh, Lucas relaxed against her body. "I'm so scared, baby…the way I've been acting, why would you want to stay with me?"

"Because you're my hero. You're the person I trust most in this world. You're the man I love." It was moments like this when he realized the incredible amount of strength this seemingly frail body chose to hide. When all the time he thought her delicate, breakable. All the times he felt so badly compelled to shelter her, protect her, hold her close until absolutely nothing in the world could harm her.

"I love you, too."

He had almost forgotten how sweet her kisses were. How warm she felt against him. How soft her skin was to his touch. If he could, he would live off of her alone, now and forever. As their touches and kisses picked up in intimacy, his fingers shaking as he unfastened her shirt buttons, there was no denying which way this was headed.

"Your heart's pounding." She rested her hand against his chest, palm down to take in the familiar rhythm.

He curled his hand over hers, giving a self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm nervous."

She huffed out a strange sound, half-sigh and half-laugh. "You too?"

"Yeah."

"This is crazy. It's not like we haven't done this before."

He smiled, leaning down to lightly kiss her. "We'll take it slow," he whispered against her lips.

His mouth descended to her neck and Peyton sighed softly with pleasure, twining her fingers through his hair, softer and thicker than she had ever remembered it. "Slow works."

His hand slowly trailed down her side…

"Oh!"

She felt him smile against her skin and she scratched her nails against his nape, tilting her head back to give him better access. "Slow definitely works."

----

She was so beautiful. She always had been, and he had always known it. But there had always been too much lying between them for him for him to openly acknowledge it. Lying next to her now, watching her sleeping so peacefully, he knew her to be so breathtaking. Feeling the weight of his stare, her nose twitched, her head tilting over until she was facing him.

"What're ya doin'?" Her words slurred together with a raspy suture, green eyes blinking up at him with groggy confusion.

He brushed away the golden curls falling in her face, "Watching you sleep," he sheepishly admitted.

"That's borderline stalking, Luke," she whispered back to him, a small smile tugging at her lips, "Not to mention kinda creepy."

"You gonna have call the cops on me?"

She laughed. "Mmm, don't think so. You don't need to come close to getting arrested twice in twenty-four hours. Besides, I kinda like having you around. Stalker-like tendencies and all."

"I'm glad to hear it." He kissed her, gaining a low moan of pleasure as he nipped at her bottom lip. She cupped his face, pressing harder against him and Lucas took the invitation, sliding his tongue into her mouth to further taste her.

"God," he groaned, resting his forehead against hers, eyes dark with both arousal and wonder, "I don't think that can ever get old."

"That's good." She brushed her fingers down his cheek. "'Cause we'll have to put it on hold for awhile."

He smiled wanly. "We gotta talk, huh?"

"Hmm-mm."

"Okay."

"_At this point, I don't know what else we can do but wait it out. Lucas has to want to help himself."_

She laid her hand, palm-down, upon his chest, where inlay an incredible heart. The outside world would think it flawed, but Peyton Sawyer knew better. For now it was conflicted, true, but she knew firsthand his limitless capacity for love and goodness and devotion.

It didn't matter what any doctor had to say; she could see nothing weak in the strong, steady muscle beating beneath the warmth of his skin. "This isn't you. You know all this anger and violence isn't the answer. Running away from me isn't either. So, let me help you find the right one…the one that fits you…so talk to me, Luke."

Placing his hand over hers, fingers entwining at where they rested above his heart, Lucas did just that.

----

Preview for Next Chapter:

"_Are you Lucas Scott?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_My name's Quinn Edwards. We need to talk."_


	19. Chapter 18: Straightforward

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

A/N: Yeah…I pretty much coped out for the Peyton/Brooke thing. I stole most of the dialogue from 3.21.

**Chapter Eighteen: Straightforward**

The night before had been one of his few peaceful nights of sleep in over a week, and though he loathed leaving to leave Peyton's side, he was predictably restless. The depth of their conversation that morning had left him with a lot to think about, and a strong sense of emotional exhaustion.

His inner demons were eased away once more with another bout of late-morning lovemaking, slow and sweet in the way he liked, when he could take his time with his love and show her just how beautiful he thought she was. He reluctantly left Peyton to a needed nap around noon, making his way toward his current destination with a need for fresh air and time to think. He was mindful not to wake her, knowing she would throw a fit if she knew his intended destination.

Ignoring the slight limp that still ailed him as his side healed, he set off at a brisk pace to the Rivercourt, bouncing the leather of his ball with his good hand, rhythmically beating against the concrete as he went.

The last thing he expected was company. He slowed down a few sprints, eyeing the slight female form huddled up on the bleachers, bundled up in a hoodie, looking down. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, drawing back her hood as she stood, letting them both get a better look of the other.

Lucas faltered in the approach, recognizing the girl from the bar, the singer whose honor he had so drunkenly defended. She gave him a wan smile, nervously fiddling with her sleeves. "Are you Lucas Scott?"

"Yeah."

She cocked her head, and softly replied. "My name's Quinn Edwards. We need to talk."

…So much for taking a breather….

He started, and studied her more closely. She must have been in her early twenties, her features feminized, but still they stood out to him. Chestnut hair, brown eyes, the shape of her mouth and cheekbones, they were all familiar to him, and he blinked with surprise as recognition of the name set in. "Quinn. Jimmy's sister."

She nodded. "He mentioned me?"

"A couple times, but he didn't really know you."

She winced, but conceded to the truth. "No, he didn't. I didn't know him either. That's partially my fault, partially our parents'."

Lucas sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "What do you want? The _last_ thing I want to do is talk about Jimmy Edwards."

Quinn rocked back on her heels and studied him. "I heard about your little performance at the school. Personally, I think that's all the more reason for us to talk."

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't follow."

"Look, just hear me out, and I promise to leave you alone. Deal?"

Lucas rolled his eyes upward, contemplating. This was probably a bad decision all-round, but…

"Fine. Let's at least sit down for this."

----

"I cannot believe this is happened again." Brooke's sharp, accusing tone resounded through the room, cutting into the tension lying in every inch between the two girls.

"It's not, okay! It's not like the last time-

"The last time? Do you hear yourself right now? The last time you tried to steal my boyfriend? He's on the door, Peyton! He's on the damn door under ME!" Brooke slapped Peyton's closet door for emphasis.

"I didn't wanna steal him, okay?"

"But you did."

"Brooke, I wasn't gonna do anything about it, okay? I tried to just bury it!"

"You can't, okay? It's more than you getting with Lucas! That damn time capsule, Peyton! You didn't just fuck him, Peyton, you were having his baby! How can you expect me to just let that go?"

"I don't know, alright?! I should have been honest with you. I didn't wanna make the same mistake as last time."

"Don't you dare try to make yourself feel like you are not a backstabbing, two-faced bitch, Peyton! Because you are! And you know it."

"Okay. So this is how it ends. A ten year friendship that survived two dead moms, three absentee parents, shoplifting, jail time…"

Brooke was silent.

"And we can't survive one boy?

"Not one boy, Peyton. My boy."

"He's not your boy any more."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Okay, you know what Brooke? I didn't want it this way, I- I tried tears, alright? I tried apologizing to you, I cried. And you know what you did? You smacked me and you blew me off."

"You're gonna be lucky if next time I don't use my fist."

"God…if this was even about a boy, it was about _my_ boy. My baby boy. It was about Lucas and I turning to each other for one night when we were both lonely and hurting. It was about our having a baby together. It was about loving the little life we created together, and then losing him. That's what this is about."

"I'll tell what this is about," Brooke sneered, "It's about you spreading your legs even faster then your whore of a mother, and then getting yourself knocked up with my boyfriend's bastard."

A slap of flesh against flesh, and this time it was the brunette holding her stinging cheek.

"Don't ever talk about Ellie or my son that way! You know what?! Forget this. I'm done, Brooke." Peyton waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, turning her back as she blinked away stubborn tears, determined not to cry for her lost childhood friendship.

Brooke couldn't muster up any words as she watched her former best friend walk away from her.

----

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to understand."

"Your brother nearly killed the love of my life. What is there to understand?"

Quinn leveled a long look in his direction, "Jimmy and I were never close. A lifetime of resentment and avoidance made sure of that." She leaned back on her elbows as she overlooked the long expanse of grass and asphalt that was the Rivercourt. "We're half-siblings. When I was four, our father left my mom for Marie, Jimmy's mother. I spent a long time resenting them both for that. It tore my mom apart, and I needed someone to blame. I never took into account how much Jimmy got the raw end of the deal. Our dad…"

Lucas vaguely remembered her father. James Sr. had been a hard, stern man, and Lucas had seen him take a violent hand to Jimmy more than once. Their childhood had been full of hints of Mrs. Edwards suffering the same abuse. It was actually what had made Mouth and Jimmy so close in the end; Jimmy made a habit out of climbing through their friend's window when nights at home got too rough. James Edwards may have been dead five years, but the damage still lingered. At Jimmy's insistence, it had become a decade-long secret between the five of them (Skills, Lucas, Mouth, Jimmy, and Fergie) and it was a reluctant promise they had kept to until death- Jimmy's.

Quinn saw the recognition in his eyes and gave a humorless laugh. "See? You're feeling the same thing I am. That guilt."

Lucas grunted, looking away. They both knew she was right.

"So, I gotta ask you. Is all this anger you're feeling directed at Jimmy, or is some of it for yourself? I know mine is."

He buried his face in his hands, and the most he could do was nod his head.

She chose to let him be for a moment, give him a bit of relief to process. "I'm worried about Marie. I thought maybe seeing me would help a little, but I might have done more harm than good. Without Jimmy, I don't know if she has anything left."

"I know how that feels. If I'd lost Peyton, I'd have nothing."

"You'd still have your family."

"It wouldn't be the same. Your brother almost took her from me. That's not easy to forget."

"Is that the only reason?"

"…it wasn't her fault. None of it was. Jimmy ended up hurting the wrong people. You're right when you said I was feeling guilty. If I hadn't left Jim behind…"

"It doesn't help to dwell. That sinking feeling in your gut? That pain in your heart? It's not going away if you do. It'll only get worse."

"I can't afford for that to happen."

"Then let the past be the past. You can't go back and change it. If I could…there are a million things I would fix. But I can't."

"We don't owe each other anything, but I think we owe something to Jimmy. Do me a favor. Go see Marie. Give her some peace, and get some for yourself."

"…I'll think about it…"

"Okay. Good."

"By the way…"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the other night," he gave her a quizzical look, "The bar. When you defended me to those guys. Thank you."

"I was trashed," he mumbled sheepishly.

"Doesn't matter. It was still a nice gesture. A little extreme, but nice nonetheless." And then, she did the strangest thing, and the most unexpected. She walked back to him and gazed down at him thoughtfully, Lucas staring back questioningly. She then tenderly brushed back his hair, pressing a light kiss to his temple.

"I hear you're a big hero, Lucas Scott. But you can't save everyone. Just remember that."

Quinn then proceeded to walk away, leaving a dumbfounded Lucas seated frozen on the bleachers, only coming out of his stupor when she had disappeared from sight. He shook his head with disbelief, leaning back against the bench behind him.

He hadn't been able to save his son. He hadn't been able to save Jimmy. He'd barely managed to save Peyton.

It was time he redeemed himself, and all his mistakes.

…It was about time he saved himself...

----

_A week later…_

Right, right, left. Right, right, left. Letting the redundant rhythm take his mind off anything else, Lucas landed hit after hit to the punching bag before him. It had been a recent gift from Keith, hooked up in the garage to give him a healthier outlet to his temper of late. He only hoped none of the women in his life found him. He'd only had his hand brace off for three days. Despite the extra padding in his gloves, his mother and Peyton would kill him for his current activities.

Lucas swiped at the sweat on his brow with his forearm, the beat of his heart picking up at the thought of his lover. He had managed to go back to school rather peacefully, and that, along with Peyton's brief stint into physical therapy, gave him something to focus on. They alternated the rest of their time between conversation and lovemaking, cementing further both their physical and emotional bonds.

His jaw clenched as he recalled instead the reason for their in-depth talks. His punches picked up in speed and force, tearing into the leather and canvas as if it held the very source to all his frustration and pain.

"Lucas!"

The sound of Keith's voice met his ears rather sharply, and Lucas glanced back at him with dark eyes. "He threw it all on the rest of us," he stated abruptly, "On me. All his anger, all his hate, all of it. Why?"

"He killed himself right in front of me. It was like he didn't value life at all. My son is gone, I almost lost Peyton, and all I can think about is how Jimmy wasted his life away."

"He was hurting, Luke. I just wanted the pain to go away."

"So do I. It's not like my life's been easy, especially of late."

"I know, son. I wish there's something more I could have done…"

"There's enough guilt and blame to go around, Keith? You don't want to share it." Lucas shook his head, giving his stepfather a sad smile. "I've been projecting so much onto the guy. It wasn't Jimmy was blaming…"

"…it was yourself," Keith quietly concluded.

Lucas nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah. I'd just barely started dealing with what happened with William and Peyton and Brooke, and then all this other shit…I just lost it."

He looked up at the older man, looking much like the lost little boy Keith hadn't seen in over a decade. "Why'd he have to die, Keith?"

"Which one, son? Your baby or your friend?" Keith shook his head, realizing what he had said as he watched Lucas's face fall even further. "Never mind. I'm sorry. They're both a loss that shouldn't have happened. I wish I had an answer for you, Luke, but I don't. All I know is that there wasn't anything you could have done. I'm sorry, son."

"S'alright," Lucas murmured, his words slurring as tears burned in his eyes.

Uncertain as to what else he could do, Keith sat down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Lucas gratefully leaned into his shoulder, sighing tiredly. "What do I do now, Dad?"

Keith's ears perked up at that, but he held back a smile. "Just think with your heart, son. Let yourself be the man I always knew you could be."


	20. Chapter 19: Bittersweet

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Nineteen: Bittersweet**

She felt him there before she saw him, the sheer power of his presence announcing him before she could make out the shape of his silhouette in the dimly lit room. His body outlined in shadow was looming, strong and poignant in his domineer. But still, something seemed off about him.

"Luke." She licked her lips, swallowing hard as he stalked toward her in slow, pacing steps. Just as his proximity came close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body, she placed a hand against his chest, stopping him in his path. "What happened?"

"I could ask you the same thing. What happened to you?"

"I went to see Brooke."

"I take it didn't go well," he commented dryly.

She winced. "Understatement of the year."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." The sting of Brooke's insults was still too potent.

"Peyton…"

"I don't want to talk about Brooke."

A flicker of pain in green eyes, and it was too much for him to take. He came forward and swept her into his arms, their bodies seamlessly fitting together as he kissed her, his mouth a warm softness against hers. Her arms slid around his neck, clinging to him as they lost to the throes of long-denied ardor. "On second thought," she gasped, grabbing at him for support, "Let's not talk at all."

He trailed a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and throat, parting the buttons of her shirt to expose creamy-pale skin to his seeking lips, taking his exploration to her neck and shoulder. He pressed her back against the wall, continuing his ministrations as her hands pushed up his t-shirt, caressing the smooth skin of his back. "God, I missed you today."

She combed her fingers through his hair, guiding his lips back to hers to kiss him slowly, softly. "I missed you too." She drew back a moment, searching his eyes. "Make love to me, Luke."

He cupped her face in his hands, drawing her close. "I thought you'd never ask, babe."

His lips met hers and the kiss was sweet, soft as a whisper and gentle as the brush of a spring breeze. He slowly parted the folds of her shirt, letting the fabric fall to the carpet, baring delightfully naked skin to his eyes. His calloused hands gently caressed her, as he gently fell to his knees before her. His expression was reverent, as if kneeling before a temple to the goddesses themselves, peppering soft kisses against her stomach.

He looked up at her, palms cradling her hips as she tangled her hands through his hair. She smiled softly, brushing his bangs back from his eyes, and he returned the smile, blue eyes warm with gentleness and love. They were the eyes of the old Lucas. Her Lucas.

He kissed her navel, reaching for the button to her jeans. "I love you," she whispered, still caressing his hair.

"I love you too."

"Lucas! Lucas, are you in there?"

The couple froze, as the sound of Karen's insistent knocking and her calling of her son's name filtered through the door. They stared at each other and Lucas pulled his hands away as if burned, jumping to his feet. "Just a second, Mom."

Peyton was frantically refastening her shirt, Lucas readjusting his pants, silently grateful he'd worn loose jeans that day. He stumbled to the door, only opening it when his girlfriend gave him a nod of consent. His mother's eyes narrowed as she took in his ruffled hair and sheepish smile, looking behind him to see an uncomfortable Peyton. The way the girl was avoiding her eyes, the evidence in kiss-swollen lips and a red mark on her neck, confirmed her suspicions. She hid an amused smile, and arched an eyebrow at her son. "Sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping to talk to you. The both of you."

"Uh…sure."

Karen shook her head at the uncertain response and walked back out. "Living room. Five minutes. And Peyton, honey, you have a little something…" she gestured, and then left with a coy smile.

Peyton rushed to the mirror, craning her neck to better see the hickey just above her collarbone. Her face darkened, and she jumped at her boyfriend, smacking him for all she was worth.

A layer of cover-up, a bruised arm and a few minutes later, the pair filed out to join Karen in the living room. They sat on the couch opposite of her, both clearly nervous. And with the lack of segue to the conversation, they knew it wasn't small talk Karen was wanting of them.

"I want to talk about what happened between you this summer."

The young couple glanced at each other apprehensively, but said nothing.

"I don't want to bring up old wounds, but we haven't really had a chance to talk about it. Now, I've got a pretty good idea of your feelings behind this." She smiled softly. "I know those feelings of love and family and acceptance were hard to lose. But you'll get it back. And you can have it now. I'm here for you, as are Keith, Peyton's father, and all of your friends. You just need to talk to them. To me."

Peyton and Lucas shared a look, Lucas reaching out to take her hand. She enlaced their fingers and he raised their entwined hands, kissing her knuckles.

Karen smiled at the gesture. They were so in love. It was rare to find such a feeling at their age, and she only hoped they would continue to treasure it. "One more thing. Larry and I have been talking. With everything that's been going on, your father, Keith, and I have been worried about you. I don't want to intrude your independence in any way, but how would you feel about moving in here with us?"

While Peyton looked stunned, Lucas lit up. His mother, however, was quick to lay down ground rules. "There would be separate bedrooms, of course. No hanky-panky and definitely no sleepovers."

Lucas smiled. He couldn't help himself. Karen had been overlooking their sharing a bed in the chaotic situation surrounding them, and he'd known it was too good to last once things started settling down. "Mom," he replied dryly, "Did you seriously just say hanky-panky?"

"I gave you life. I have a right to be corny."

"Uh-huh," he said in a singsong tone, a small smile playing across his lips.

"Nine months and sixteen hours of labor. I got you beat, buddy."

"Touché."

During their teasing exchange, Peyton was still struggling to overcome her shock at Karen's offer, and she shook her head disbelievingly. The motion caught her boyfriend's attention and he turned to her. His grin soon turned to a frown as he took in her expression, worry taking place of his joviality when he spotted tears in her eyes. "Peyt?"

She gave him a watery smile, squeezing his hand. Her eyes returned to his mother. "Are you sure, Karen?"

"Absolutely, Peyton. We'd love to have you here."

This time, the blonde couldn't help the tears from spilling over, as she rushed up to hug the older woman. Karen smiled gently, slipping her arms around the girl and soothingly rubbing her back. It was the kind of mother's touch Peyton had gone so many years without. Karen only hoped to be able to remedy that. Silently she amended to herself, she would be able to. She knew without doubt that this young woman would one day be her daughter.

Later on, Lucas and Peyton were on the front porch, giving them time to digest their new circumstances. Lucas had her enwrapped in his arms, holding her from behind, as they stood together in a comfortable silence. Peyton rested her hands over his forearms, sighing softly as he nuzzled her neck. "Your mom is awesome, you know that?"

He grinned, affectionately rubbing his nose against her nape. "She is pretty cool, isn't she?" He nuzzled against her once more. "Tomorrow's Saturday. I was thinking we could go to your place to get some of your stuff, and then we can spend the day together. What do you think?"

"Sounds good."

He kissed her cheek, giving her one last squeeze before letting her go. "There's something I have to do. Will you be okay for a couple of hours?"

"I'll be fine. Come to bed when you get home?"

The warm, languorous look in her eyes was soon reflected in his own. It was the last night he would have her in his bed without repercussion. He wasn't about to waste it.

"Oh, definitely."

----

It was disconcerting how much the short walk from his house to his destination compared to his own funeral procession. Dusk had fallen, casting dark shadows over the rambling, empty streets. Crossing the lines between everything he knew and everything around him, passing through the comely residential neighborhoods put him on edge, delivering a harsher dose of reality than he cared to be dealt. His route was uncomfortably familiar.

The streets were deserted for the time of day, but it wasn't a surprise for Tree Hill. The only sound breaking the silence was the rhythm of his feet falling against the concrete, an eerie affect caused by the sound echoing against the walls of the buildings nearby.

Lucas took in a shuddering, gasping breath. There was an uncomfortable sensation in his chest, a strange, awful pressure tightening until he could scarcely breathe, let alone form the words he needed to say. With a flare of heated determination, he fought against the irrational fears that threatened to hold him back. He swallowed hard, and raised his hand to knock.

"Hi, Mrs. Edwards. I'm sorry to come so late…"

----

For the first time in a long time, he felt utterly free.

"Luke…"

Tactile sensations…wondrous, awe-striking sensations coursing through him, enveloping him in their wake, tormenting him, placating him, soothing him despite the way his heart slammed in his chest. Warm bodies entwined as closely as they could come, slipping beneath the coverlet of his bed, twisting among the sheets. Her skin was smooth and flawless beneath his fingertips, growing flushed and rosy the longer he stared at her, so hot and perfect to the touch as he reached out to her.

Her low sighs of pleasure filled the air, warm breath mingling between them as her eyes opened to gaze up at him, darkened to a rich emerald green in the shadows seizing the room, the only illumination casting over them being the moon outside.

Her hands were so small, so deft as they skimmed down his back, eliciting shivers coursing through him as her fingers traced over the outlines of sculpted muscle, her touch whisper-soft and just as teasing as those same hands smoothed over the low dip making up the small of his back, coming to a stop at the waistband of his breeches. Without hesitation, he arched upward, allowing the last barrier between them to be removed and cast off to an unknown destination.

A soft sound of appreciation escaped her lips as he lowered himself over her once more, and he pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him as his mouth closed over hers, the soft swells of her breasts pressing against his chest only adding to sensual torment.

Her lips were invitingly soft as he kissed her, her body overwhelmingly warm as he embraced her, and she was there so willingly, so lovingly, as they finally came together in the most intimate embrace known to man. He took her hands in his, lifting them to rest on the pillow above her head, their fingers tightly enlacing as he began to move above her.

Passions met and merged as bodies melded together in slow, sensuous rhythm, moving together in fluid motion as old as time itself, meant to bring two beings together as one until hearts, minds, and souls submerged. Her grip on his hands kept him grounded from losing himself forever to the ardent rapture overtaking him, as the pleasure only kept on building, bringing them closer and closer to the final culmination; every searching touch, every labored breath, every soft sigh or whimper, every impassioned groan, pushing them that much closer to the edge.

Ecstasy became an overwhelming, tangible thing that stole away his breath, vanished coherent thought, stirring his heart with overfilling emotions as they clung together in the throes of completion. Arms grappling for his shoulders, legs locking around his waist, she arched against him, her scream of his name muffled by his mouth over hers. In that kiss, he conveyed everything, gave over everything; his love, his desire, his heart, his soul, even as his body tensed and gave into gratification.

"Stay with me." He had little idea what drew the whisper from him, but the adamant plea was desperate and choking in his throat, enveloping him in its strangling hold, raging inside as he tightened his arms around her almost painfully, pressing his forehead to her shoulder in an attempt to hide his eyes as they mirrored the unspoken appeals racing through his mind.

"Please."

Her hands gently cradled his head, soothingly stroking his tawny hair. She welcomed him without reservation as he leaned over her once more, allowed herself to be enveloped in his embrace, and greeted his kiss with equal vigor as he began to move over her once more; drowning them both in a need they had sated only moments before.

"Always," she whispered to him, meeting him once more in love and passion, "Always."

Afterward, he sank down into the bed, folding her in his arms. They held each other in silence, the occasional kiss planted lazily over exposed skin, hands slowly exploring over the familiar contours of a lover's body, and resting in the circle of their lover's embrace, each found themselves languid and satiated in their exhaustion. He swept back his hair to kiss her gently; whispering fervently, "I love you."

She smiled softly in response, cupping his face to draw him to her in another kiss, returning the same words. He closed his eyes in bliss, reaching for her hand as they joined, her fingers gently caressing his calloused palm. "Hey, Luke, I've been thinking."

He opened one sleepy eye. "What about?"

She took in a deep breath, letting it slowly. "I want to have another baby."


	21. Chapter 20: Heart

**Lullaby**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Twenty: Heart**

Lucas's eyes flew open, and his mouth quite literally dropped open as he stared incredulously at his girlfriend. Peyton watched with amusement as his eyes widened comically, brows shooting to nearly his forehead. She smirked, reaching out a hand to close his unhinged jaw. "Careful, baby. You never know what you might catch that way."

He blinked, staring at her for awhile for in stunned silence before his look shifted into something else. There was a mixture of shock and a little fear, but she was surprised to find as well interest, anticipation, happiness, and a hint of consideration. "You want another baby," he repeated slowly, not sure if he had heard her right. She nodded, and he grinned brightly.

She caressed his cheek. "I'm not talking about now, Luke. I'm talking about someday."

An even bigger surprise was his look of disappointment. "Oh," he nodded his head, and sighed, "I guess I didn't think that one through."

"No. Me either. I mean, the thought's passed through my mind about a hundred times since last summer. But reality kind of pushes it back again." She leaned over to face him, resting a hand against his chest. "I'm sorry, Lucas. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. That part just sort of blurted out."

"I'll say."

She rolled her eyes at him. "What I meant is…I know how much you've been afraid of losing me lately. I just…I want everything with you: a family, a future, all of it. Someday. And we can wait for it, 'cause I'm not going anywhere, babe."

His smile, she was sure, was bright as the sun itself. "Whoa…"

She laughed softly. She was pretty surprised herself at, of course, herself. "Yeah. I'm…I'm not afraid anymore, Luke, and it feels great."

"It does feel pretty good, doesn't it?" He followed up the rhetorical comment with a soft kiss. "Mom's right. We will get that feeling back. The one we had when we knew Will was coming. God, Peyt," he whispered with awe, lost in his memory, "I remember that. I never thought I could ever feel so much love for a person that barely even existed yet. I know you felt it too. Knowing that feeling of finally having a family, of having someone who would love you unconditionally, just for being you. It's amazing, isn't it?"

She cupped his jaw, drawing his mouth back to hers in a warm, lingering contact. "It'll _be_ amazing."

"Mmm. It will be." He rubbed his nose against hers, smiling softly. "I love you."

"I love you too." She hesitated a moment, stroking her fingers against his bare chest. "Luke, tell me something."

"Tell you what, honey?"

"There was something Brooke said today. Tell me we don't have anything to be ashamed of. That I don't have anything to be ashamed of. Making love to me that night wasn't a mistake. Our son wasn't a mistake."

He wrapped his arms around her, whispering fervently into her hair. "Never. Loving you, making William…the best things I have done with my life." He brushed a kiss against her temple. "And you are that life now. Always."

----

Over the next few days, alone time was rare for the couple. They took a reprieve the next chance they had; returning to the place where it had all began. The beach was empty that evening when Lucas and Peyton finally reached their destination.

They sat side-by-side on the sand and Lucas reached out to his girlfriend, snaking an arm around her waist to pull her into his lap. She giggled (Lucas smirked; he'd actually witnessed Peyton Sawyer giggling) and nestled back against him, resting her head against the crook of his neck.

"You talked to Nathan and Haley today, didn't you?" she asked him quietly.

"Yeah."

"How'd it go?"

Lucas huffed out a hefty breath. "Okay. Haley understood and Nate said we were cool, but I think it'll be a little while before he's comfortable with me again."

"I'm sorry, Luke." She kissed his cheek. "It'll get better."

"I know." He reiterated her kiss.

He turned his gaze, felt the exhaustion of the day setting in on him, and he took in the sight of sun setting over the horizon. The fiery star shot the sky through with the warm glow of vermillion, and over the serene blue of the water, it seemed as if in that moment, the two elements met and kissed, lingering together in the short time left before twilight.

He thought back to the amateur poetry, alongside his developing novel, he had written in the past few months, mostly about Peyton. The heat of her in his heart and soul and head was overwhelming, and he needed to drain out the words before they imploded upon him. A dozen litanies later about gold and sunlight and emerald eyes left an odd, poetic beat to his conscious.

His lips curled into a slight smile as he hummed softly in thought. At sunset over the ocean, fire took water to wife, and he kissed his new bride with lingering affection before the opaque night obscured them from sight. And the newlyweds took their rest in the wake of the fading daytime.

"Peyt?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you marry me?"

He saw her smile, tilting her head toward him. "Ask me again in a couple years."

He couldn't help himself from smiling as well. "Okay."

It wasn't long before they found themselves drawn to the gently-lapping waters of the bay set out before them, stripping off clothes down to their birthday suits in daring fashion as they raced off toward the dusk.

Splashing among the waves, their eyes met again across the water and that magnetic pull was back again. There was no way he could resist getting closer to her.

He slowly brought his hands up to frame her face, and leaned down. The resulting kiss was soft, her eyes fluttering closed as his lips grazed over hers, applying the lightest bit of pressure as she responded, twining her arms around his neck in a way that consequently brought her closer to him. He pulled back slightly, his nose brushing against hers as he smiled.

Watching her eyes, he brought a hand from her face and placed it carefully on the small of her back, gliding his fingers up her spine to rest at her neck, sending sensual shivers in his wake as he cupped the back of her head, tangling his fingers through her hair. She brought her own hands up to touch him, tracing the musculature of his arms and the blades of his shoulders, palms lying flat against his back to feel slick skin cool and wet from the water.

He kissed her- or she kissed him, she wasn't certain who started it- but suddenly there was nothing but mouth and cheek and skin and hands…gentle and warm and passionate. They broke apart only as the need for air became an issue, and Peyton watched him withdraw through hooded eyes, her vision full of nothing but the hazy blue of his eyes, deep and penetrating as the dark oceans around them.

She shuddered for breath, trembled against him and he tightened his arms around her. His lips whispered a kiss against the nape of her neck, and his hands were incredibly gentle as he slowly mapped her body. Luke thrilled in touching her. She was lean and lithe, so very graceful, all silken skin and slender curves.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

With a mischievous grin, she playfully pushed at his shoulders, breaking out of his arms. The chase was on, the two of them gliding effortlessly through the water as their bodies streamlined along the tide. Tossed about between laughter and splashes, she managed to evade him one last time, shoving him under before heading to the shallows. He resurfaced a few moments later, blonde hair stuck to his face. He sputtered for air as he blinked, attempting to move the sopping mess out of his eyes.

With a warm smile, Peyton accomplished the task for him, drawing his head down for a kiss as he wrapped his hands around her hips, lifting her up toward him. Her legs slung around his waist, and he balanced her against him, rather proud of his double-tasking as they continued to devour each other, all the while as he stumbled out of the water. They hit down onto the sand, Lucas managing to take the brunt of the impact as she fell overtop of him. He rolled her beneath him, ignoring the sentiment sticking their wet skin as their bodies entwined together.

He peppered kisses down her neck and shoulder, running his hands down her sides, "You are so beautiful."

She smiled, tilting back her head to grant him better access, "Are we really going to do this here?"

She felt his lips lift into a smile against her skin, "You have any better ideas?"

"It'll be messy," she replied wryly, "Knowing us, anyway." They weren't exactly known for lacking passion for one another. Only outside parties providing unneeded complications.

"Do you care?" he kissed her.

"Mmm," she moaned, her gaze mischievous as they stared into his, "Not really."

"Good."

His kiss was anything but mild or chaste. She opened to the insistent press of his tongue, succumbed to him. Sand was coarse, wet and cold against her back, but she didn't care, and then she no longer noticed as he swept over her, his mouth at her throat hot as a brand, his hands lost between them.

A wild, strange heat coiled in her belly, stoked by his touch and fueled by the desire smoldering in his eyes. She had known those eyes forever, seen every look, every emotion they had to reveal, and every pain. She knew their fire, their determination, their sorrow, their pride, and their strength.

But on this night, they burned with a different fire, a familiar, lustful heat that never failed to thrill her. It was a gaze full of love and desire dominating over everything else; all for her, only for her. As his mouth descended onto hers once again, all coherent thought flew out the proverbial window. Emotion and sensation met and clashed; collided to join together in a fire that threatened to overwhelm her. His heat enveloped her, embraced her just as he did.

He touched her in ways only he could, in places no other man ever had: heart and body. His touch was simultaneously demanding and gentle; tender in a way she had always imagined he would be. Strong and tender, passionate and gentle, he was all the things she had ever known him to be. The familiarity of him was soothing, knowing his body as well as she did.

Two bodies joined, their hearts pounded with united rhythm. For a single, frozen moment, they went still, staring into each other's eyes as they took in the feeling of together in every way. Slender arms twined around his neck, legs around his hips, and she welcomed him into her body. The sensation of him inside of her besieged her heart, her thoughts, her body, as they began to move again. In this moment, as bodies became one, two hearts, two souls, submerged together as well.

Something archaic, something primal, in an ancient dance existing since the dawn of time, a rhythm guided by instinct, a mating driven by things they could never say. Passion, desire, lust, he was all those personified. Erasing any trace of doubt, insecurity, and questions from her head, thrown aside, tossed aside until there was nothing left but him, every sense overwhelmed and filled with him.

Once upon a time, he had been untouchable, unreachable, all out of fear for what they felt for each other and now here he was, with her in every way. His hands curled around hers, anchoring them both as he moved inside her. The faraway look his eyes sometimes held disappeared and he was there with her, all of him. She writhed beneath him, cried his name again and again, as their world collapsed out from under them, sending them flying.

Soul-shaking ecstasy, gravity defying as they crossed the line between fall and flight, came without warning, poignant and overwhelming. His body shuddered and her name spilled from his lips raw and broken, utter oblivion there to meet them as they collapsed together in an entanglement of intertwined limbs and spent passions.

Peyton laid her head upon his shoulder, smiling softly as she pressed her ear against his chest to listen to the thundering of his heart, "Good workout?"

"You have no idea," he dropped a kiss to the top of her head, wrapping her into his embrace.

"I might." She nestled closer to him, kissing his chest, "Now," she said wryly. "What is better than that?"

Lucas chuckled, "I can't think of anything."

"Honestly, I can't think at all."

He smiled, nuzzling against her neck, "That's usually a good sign."

"Mmm, always," she kissed him softly, stroking his cheek, feeling him respond as his mouth was a warm, gentle press against hers. When he moved to deepen the kiss, she reluctantly rolled away from him, meeting his protesting frown with a regretful sigh, "We need to get back."

Lucas groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, "Can't we just ignore the whole curfew issue?"

"After all the leeway she's given us, the last thing I want is to get on Karen's bad side."

"Fine," he huffed out a sigh and brushed sand away from his thighs. "Peyt…"

"Hmm?"

He cupped her cheek, drawing her mouth to his in a soft kiss, "I love you," another soft peck, "And you have no idea how hard it is not to touch you right now."

She scoffed. "I can feel how _hard _it is for you. But we really need to be going. Don't think I'd fall for that distraction tactic."

"It was worth a shot."

----

It was late February, six months to the day William Scott had passed. Arms around each other, Lucas and Peyton walked languidly through the cemetery, at peace for the first time since they had begun making the monthly trip to their son's grave.

The skies overhead were a cold, steel gray, overcastting the sun's warm touch. Lucas knelt beside the cold stone of his son's grave, so lost in his memories, he didn't pay any attention to the dismal cold and damp around him, wrapping around him like a blanket capable of chilling him to the bone. Instead, he chose to bask in his inward warmth, which made all the difference. The months had changed him a little, his handsome face clean-shaven and peaceful, his hair cut neatly short, his blue dress shirt offsetting his twinkling eyes.

He was sans his favorite leather jacket, which was wrapped around the woman beside him, beautiful in an emerald green dress, hair growing out past her shoulders and recovering their trademark curls. Lucas had taken her to dinner earlier that evening before their planned visit, both of them deciding this particular anniversary was better spent in memory rather than mourning.

"Of all nature's gifts to the human race," Lucas whispered softly, reverence to the quote he had chosen for the gravestone, "What is sweeter to man than his children?"

"Luke." A pair of green eyes peered down at him curiously. The same eyes that captivated him, saved him, loved him. She was his girlfriend, his lover, the holder of his heart, his future wife and mother of his children. "You okay?"

Lucas smiled up at her softly, as her hand wrapped around his own, soft and small. He gripped her hand warmly, tracing his finger carefully over the words engraved in the headstone. "Yeah, I'm okay." He stood up, offering Peyton his arm with a last glance at the flowers they had laid out at their feet. It was only around seven, and he wondered idly if walking the beach would be a good way to end the evening.

He gently kissed her temple. "We're okay."

----

This, my lovely readers, is, regrettably, the last chapter of Lullaby. I'll follow it up with an epilogue sooner or later. I just want you to know I appreciate all reviews and feedback, and I thank you for joining me on this ride through what's proven to be my most popular fic yet.

See you soon,  
Nomad


	22. Epilogue: Top of the World

_Tree Hill, North Carolina: August 24, 2035_

Her oldest brother would have been thirty this year.

This was the forefront thought in the mind of Anna Brooklyn Taylor, neè Scott, on a sunny, humid August afternoon in her hometown. Her infant son slept peacefully against her shoulder and she ran a hand through his glossy black curls. The six-month-old shifted at the contact, nuzzling against her. She smiled down at him, tucking a lock of stray hair behind her ear.

She was a beautiful woman, slender and willowy, with eyes the color of a summer sky, her face accented by falls of sun-kissed hair she wore at shoulder-length. Wife, mother, and teacher: she was happily married to a small-town mechanic, the proud mother of two boys, and well-liked elementary music teacher.

A flash of red caught the corner of her eye and Anna abruptly turned her head, her eyes narrowing. "Scott Antwon Taylor! You get back here!"

The four-year-old in question looked back at her, wrinkling his nose in displeasure. "Momma!!"

Anna stood up, cradling her youngest as she sidled over to grab the collar of her son's red t-shirt, nudging him back toward the bench she had been sitting on. "Don't you 'Momma' me. I told you not to leave the playground."

A masculine chuckle could be heard from behind her, its source soon appearing in the true form. A tall man, muscled and broad-shouldered, with twinkling blue eyes and a mess of light brown hair, walked toward her. His arm was around the shoulders of a shorter woman, her brown eyes warm as she smiled at them, shiny chestnut hair highlighted in the sunshine.

While Anna, at 25, had chosen to settle down and start a family early on in life, Charles Nathaniel Scott was a man who constantly professed to want nothing to do with home and hearth. He was a charming and light-hearted man, and at 21, he was a junior at Duke University, following the Scott legacy as his team's MVP on the basketball court. On his arm was his long-time girlfriend, Sawyer Davis-Baker, the daughter of their godmother honorary aunt, fashion mogul Brooke Davis, and their uncle, famous movie producer Julian Baker.

Her brother flashed her that famous Scott grin. "My fault, Ann. I think he saw me coming."

"Unca' Charlie!" Scott pulled away from his mother and shot himself into his uncle's arms.

Charlie caught him easily, swinging him around to earn giggles of delight from the little boy. "Hey there, slugger!"

Sawyer shared a look with Anna, shaking her head with amusement. They shared a hug and kiss, Sawyer soon cooing over the baby. Charlie held Scott at his hip, grinning at the two women. "What're you feeding this kid, sis? I swear he just keeps getting heavier."

Anna arched an eyebrow, resting a hand against her hip. "Oh, yeah? You're looking a little thick around the middle yourself, Chuck. Makes you wonder if you'll still fit in that suit of yours."

"Don't tell my mother that," Sawyer warned with a soft laugh, "She's been determined for months that we would all have new clothes in time for Sophia's wedding."

Anna laughed at the mention of Sawyer's sister, Brooke and Julian's firstborn, an up-and-coming young actress. So like her mother, she was quite the premadonna, and wanted a perfect fairytale wedding within the next month.

"How is Aunt Brooke? Still busy as ever?"

Sawyer spared her 'cousin' a wry glance. "You know it, Ann. Just as stressed, too. She gets wound any tighter and I think she'll explode."

"Speaking of family," Charlie commented, distracted as he tickled his nephew. "Where's A.J.?"

"Working. He said he'll meet us for dinner later on." Anna smiled at the thought of her loving, hard-working A.J.

Anna had grown up beside Antwon Taylor, Jr., the eldest son of his parents' longtime friend, her Uncle Skills. The couple had married right out of high school, Anna to community college and A.J. working as a mechanic at the Scott Body Shoppe, still ran after all these years by her Grandpa Keith. He had since given her two beautiful sons, so like their father in their mocha skin and glossy black curls. The only difference was revealed to her when the baby in Sawyer's arms stirred…

…and looked up at his mother with crystal blue eyes. The recessive gene had shone beautifully in her youngest, her own eyes, Charlie's eyes, her father Lucas's eyes.

William Lucas Taylor made soft sounds of protest, reaching chubby little arms out of his mother. Anna obliged the baby, turning her turned her attention back to her brother. "We need to head out to Mom and Dad's place, Charlie. Liam's getting hungry and Scott's restless."

"Alright, we'll come with." Charlie set down his older nephew, who trotted over to his mother and took her offered hand. Charlie once more wrapped his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders and Sawyer leaned into him, as the group headed toward Charlie's truck and the Taylor family mini-van.

The drive to the Scott household was a short, quiet one, as Tree Hill wasn't that big a town to begin with. The sound of gravel beneath tires caught the attention of two of the house's residents, as the adults saw two little blonde heads pop up in the front window.

A moment later, while Anna was working to unbuckle both Scott and Liam, two girls raced out of the house, screen door slamming shut behind them. Blonde curls were disarrayed in the wind, green eyes sparkling with excitement, as Charlie found himself with identical nine-year-olds clinging to each leg. Elizabeth and Rebecca squealed with delight as Charlie made exaggerated grunting sounds still clinging to his strong legs, slowly walking forward with his extra passengers.

"Fe, fi, fo, fum, I hear the giggles of little monsters. They make good snacks." The twin mini-Peyton duplicates screamed as their brother growled and reached for them, both girls scrambling toward the house to escape the "monster's" grasp.

Anna watched the interactions, letting Scott out of the car so he could join the play. Sawyer stood beside her, the look in her eyes a little wistful. The blonde pressed a kiss to Liam's forehead as she took him into her arms, resting a sympathetic hand on her friend's arm. "You know he's still young, Sawyer. He could still change his mind."

Sawyer smiled sadly. "It's not like I'm looking to get married right now. But Charlie won't even think about a someday. Just look at him. He'd make an amazing father."

"Give it time. As much of a dork as he can be, Charlie's the committed type. I think you're stuck with him."

Sawyer gave her a smile and the group ushered themselves inside. Charlie and Anna were the first ones to enter a rather spacious kitchen (their parents had been cooking for four, after all) only to be met with a traumatizing sight.

"Oh, God," Charlie proclaimed, slapping a hand over his eyes, "I'm blind. I'm blind!!"

Locked in a passionate kiss, Lucas and Peyton Scott were otherwise occupied. Peyton was seated on the kitchen counter, legs around his husband's hips as he leaned her back against the cabinets. One hand was buried in her curls, the other creeping up her shirt. Peyton's hands, meanwhile, were on Lucas's belt, already half undone.

The parents separated, surprisingly unabashed as Peyton fixed her clothes and hopped down to the floor, Lucas nonchalantly buckled his belt.

"Oh, hush, Charles," his mother chided, "Just how do you think you got here?"

"Ugh," the young man groaned, "I was hoping to stick to the stork theory."

Anna rolled her eyes at her brother's dramatics, giving her parents a smile. Contrary to popular opinion, she was unbothered by her parents' libido. At forty-eight, the love and passion between them were as strong as ever. She found it both romantic and inspiring.

As her mother turned to face them, Anna's eyes were drawn to her very pregnant belly, and she smiled. The last Scott child lay growing in Peyton's womb…all siblings knew this latest brother, as the sonogram had pointed out, would be the last as Lucas had gone through with a vasectomy four months before. Though unexpected, the baby was welcome, the pregnancy carefully monitored by doctors, father, and brothers and sisters, given Peyton's age and the risks involved.

But Anna knew to her bones, her brother would be born happy and healthy. It was the Scott way of doing things.

Two hours from then, they would all gather for a dinner, to celebrate their health, happiness, and life. It had been a tradition for going on thirty years, in memorial of the lost William Sawyer Scott.

For now, chatter soon followed, as they congregated to the living room to catch up and just bask in each other's company.

It was family, after all.


End file.
